


Thou Shall Not Covet Thy Brother's Wife

by NoShabbyTigers



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Disappointed love, F/M, Family Drama, Gen, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Jealousy, Married Sex, Mollcroft, Murder, Mystery, Profanity, Romance, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-22
Updated: 2016-07-27
Packaged: 2018-03-31 18:49:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 39
Words: 68,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3988837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoShabbyTigers/pseuds/NoShabbyTigers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Molly had loved Sherlock or so she thought. Now she was faced with a multitude of choices, family stresses and an odd but compelling new relationship with the last man on earth she would have ever expected to love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've been working on this piece for a long time and though it's not finished, I think it's time to publish the first half. This story means a lot to me as it has been written as a tribute to my mother who died four years ago in April. She was a young widowed mother who raised three children alone under very stressful circumstances. She was a fierce, protective, troubled and strong woman and I think of her every day. She always wanted me to be a writer and so this one is for you Mom.
> 
> As always, I am grateful to the writing team of Moffat and Gatiss and appreciate their tolerance for fan fiction, or as Mr. Moffat so kindly put it recently, fiction.

Thou Shall Not Covet Thy Brother’s Wife

 

_‘He was not handsome and his manners required intimacy to make them pleasing.”_

 

_“What strange creatures brothers are.”_

 

Jane Austen

 

It was after midnight. The streets were silver with rain and traffic was thin.  A lone man stood looking up at a set of dark windows in a nondescript building in the heart of London. He was tall and pale and stood in the pool of light cast by a lone light post. He was dressed in charcoal grey with a dark topcoat, blending into the night. His face, half in light half in shadow, was haggard and sad. A cab passed by, illuminating the street and the man’s silent vigil. He looked down and seemed to sag as if under a great weight. Lifting his head and gathering himself, he took one last look, turned, and slowly walked away.  All that remained behind was the quiet patter of the rain as first light began to rise over London.

******

Molly Hooper was waiting.  It always seemed as if she was always waiting for something.  Waiting to grow up, waiting to get through primary school and then waiting to get through Uni.  Then she waited for her first job, her second and finally she landed her current job at the Pathology Department at St. Bart’s. She had waited through multiple boyfriends, some more promising than others, all dim history now. Finally, for the past two years she had been waiting for Sherlock to come home.

The past twenty three months had been filled with great joy and horrific pain. Molly was conflicted, confused and was now facing one of the hardest decisions of her life. She looked at the ring on her finger and tears began to fall.

She had risked everything to help him, her job, her security and even her life. When he fell, she caught him, killed him and resurrected him all on the same grey afternoon.  She took him home, stitched him up, forced food into him and then took him into her bed. He was as beautiful unclothed as clothed but detached and technically proficient in his lovemaking. He made the effort but the spark was not there and though the act was repeated multiple times, she knew her infatuation with him had died as well. She loved him, yes, but it was a love born of friendship, not passion. She had thought she had wanted him more than anything but once she had him she had not known what to do with him. He spent two weeks in her small flat, just long enough for Molly to decide that he was not for her.

Mycroft knew, of course. He knew everything except that last, most intimate complication. He may have suspected but since there had been no joy in the brief union, there was little to give them away. He had been appraised of the plan and had assisted smoothing things over for her at Bart’s after the hasty post mortem and resultant suspicion when the perfect Molly Hooper had apparently lost or mishandled the paperwork in the death of one Sherlock Holmes. Molly was not fond of Mycroft. If anything, he was even odder than Sherlock and infinitely creepier. His perfect composure and effete manners masked a cold and calculating mind. He looked right through her and she was sure he didn’t like what he saw.

No one seemed surprised that Sherlock had jumped. Nor were they surprised that Molly Hooper, covered in his blood and wearing a tight, white mask of grief, had insisted in handling the body in the end. What did surprise them was how quickly she came back to work and how easily she took the professional reprimands. But everyone noticed that a light had gone out in Molly and she, though seldom noticed and often discounted, felt she was disappearing into her work and the pale walls of the morgue. 

Sherlock left on a Wednesday, with a brief uncomfortable hug and barely a look behind him. Life spun on and her routine once more lapsed into the mundane. Mycroft had checked in on her soon afterwards, coolly concerned and knowing somehow that she and Sherlock had crossed the line from friends to…what? Molly was unsure.  Were they lovers?  Were they friends that had shared a brief flare of passion after the murder of their former lives? She missed him but at the same time was relieved that he had gone. She needed time to think and assess what she really wanted, both from Sherlock and herself.  She had lived in his orbit for so long, behaving stupidly and allowing her infatuation to blind her that she really didn’t know what to think once the desire to possess him had turned to ashes.

Two months to the day after Sherlock’s departure, Molly Hooper was waiting again.  This time in a doctor’s office far removed from her insular world at St. Bart’s.  She already knew what the doctor would tell her.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Mycroft was watchful and cautious when he first approached her after the fall. He knew that the tenor of her relationship with Sherlock had changed and wasn’t sure how much and to what end. Sherlock had asked him to watch over all of his friends but Molly especially as her direct, if secret, involvement with his fall put her in a tenuous and potentially very dangerous position. Sherlock had been uncharacteristically nervous and unforthcoming when addressing him about Miss Hooper. Odd and when queried about his erratic behavior, Sherlock had become defensive and closed the conversation with a quiet but implacable silence. When he was younger this behavior usually indicated he was hiding something. Interesting; his brother’s uncharacteristic anxiety would merit another look.

 It irritated Mycroft that Sherlock had chosen Molly to help him but he had come to see the logic behind the choice.  Molly was no one, almost to the point of being a non-entity. Sherlock had treated her like the asset she was which meant he used her when he chose and ignored her the rest of the time. She was hard working, loyal, self-sacrificing and nearly invisible. She was very smart and quite insightful in her work at the morgue and though she had published several fine papers, she did not seek the limelight of the pathology world like many of her more flamboyant, but less talented peers. She had been reprimanded after the Sherlock debacle but had quietly resumed her work and the issue faded away.

He came to her office on a Thursday afternoon. He caught her at her desk, organizing piles of papers and files and obviously overwhelmed. She looked tired and wan; twisting a strand of her long chestnut hair around a finger. As usual, she was dressed in an appalling striped jumper and baggy slacks. How could a woman her age be so clueless about clothes? Plain as mud and depressingly ordinary. He did not know what Sherlock saw in her.

She looked up and catching sight of him, she flinched and looked away. He was judging her, she could tell and it made her angry. She steadied herself and rose to greet him.

“Hello, Mycroft” she said, only partially meeting his eyes. He was, as always, dressed impeccably in a mouse colored windowpane check suit, not a hair out of place, tie perfect and pocket square set at just the right angle.  He may dress well, she thought vindictively, but it was bloody obvious who got all the looks in the family. His face looked like a prune. She hated him.

“Hello, Miss Hooper, I have come by to let you know that our absent friend has reached his immediate destination. There will be limited contact from this time forward.  I also wanted to tell you that you and the others are now under my protection and surveillance. Please be watchful and contact me at this number if you see or perceive anything unusual.” He handed her a heavily embossed business card with a number on it. “Please memorize this number, enter it into your phone and use it only if you notice anything untoward. You cannot be too careful until our absent friend returns successful from his mission.” He inclined his head towards her and turned to go.

It had been a horrific week at the morgue. There had been spate of car crashes as well as several suicides by train.  A good share of those bodies had been channeled through Bart’s, some of them small children. She was tired, not feeling well, worn down by the pain inherent in her work and conflicted over Sherlock. The last thing she needed was bloody Mycroft Holmes telling her what to do.

“Wait” she barked before he could totally dismiss her and get away. She walked up to him with a determined look on her small face.

Mycroft turned and cocked an eyebrow at her, surprised at her abrupt tone. Perhaps the mouse had a spine after all. 

“I know you could care less about me but I need your promise to let me know should anything happen… I want, no, I _need_ to know if he is all right or not. He is important to me and I don’t want to be ignored or marginalized any more than I already have. You don’t have to understand why or lift one finger to do anything for me but I need to know. Promise me.” She grabbed him by the wrist and looked at him with a steady brown gaze.

His neck arched, his nostrils flared and he took a step back. Her hand was cool and she had a surprisingly strong grip for such a small woman. “Miss Hooper, I shall endeavor to do my best but can promise you nothing.” He brusquely pulled his hand away; how dare she touch him. “It is up to our absent friend as to the level of communication and he is quite distracted and more than likely in great danger. Also, you know his habits and his lack of attention once he is on the chase.  He may not even remember to check in for months.” Mycroft paused and raised his chin, looking down his nose at her. “Alone protects him as it protects me.  I recommend you embrace it as well for the foreseeable future. Good day. ” He turned on his heel, once more inclined his head and was gone.

Molly stood alone in her office and fought the urge to throw something, anything at the bastard’s overly tailored back. She had stood up to him and had briefly seen a flash of some emotion in his eyes – first time for everything she supposed. Tears rose but she held them back, letting her fury at Mycroft Holmes quench the urge to cry.  So be it, she thought bitterly, another asset handled and put securely in its place. 


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Molly sat in her flat slowly turning the cream business card over and over in her hands.  The edges were frayed and bent and more than a little dirty from being carried in her purse, being shoved unceremoniously into a drawer, retrieved again and again and worried until it was limp. She had entered his number into her contacts as under “Fat Bastard”. Mycroft was far from fat but she knew that Sherlock was unrelenting with Mycroft about his weight and it felt good to be unrelenting too. She assigned him a “Yakedy Sax” ring tone so that if he ever deigned to call her with an update, she would think of Benny Hill in a tutu not his polished elegance.  Childish, she knew, and unbecoming to a woman her age, but it felt good to succumb to immaturity when she had been the pillar of responsible for so long. Damn Sherlock Holmes and double damn Mycroft Holmes.

It had been over a week since her visit to the doctor and the news she was pregnant had jolted out of her ennui and brought everything into clear focus. It was not all about Sherlock anymore and not about her either.  It was about the tiny spark of life she carried within her. She had to do what was best for the unborn child and if that meant calling Mycroft and asking for help, so be it.

She had not heard from him for three months and the silence was both concerning and a relief.  She did not want to face his superior attitude but she did not know what else to do. Obviously, Sherlock had not contacted him or Mycroft would have contacted her, in spite of how he might feel about her. Although he disliked her and she disliked him, he was an honorable man and would do the right thing.  Molly was confident of that truth but still hesitated to call. There had been no threats made, no one following her and nothing to indicate that Moriarty’s network was on to her. The only thing out of the ordinary was highly personal in nature and she was reluctant to cross that line with Mycroft.  He was already judgmental towards her, what would he think when he found out that he was going to be an uncle?

Another week to think about it wouldn’t hurt she thought. She rose, put the card back into her desk drawer and went to the kitchen to make some herbal tea and get some shortbread. Limited morning sickness so far but it was still early.  She felt as she had always felt except for the foreign concept of pregnancy and parenthood. That would change as soon as the physical manifestations of her condition became more obvious.  Her life had now changed for good and there was no going back. Oh lord, what would she tell her mum?  That she had been knocked up by a dead man? Not bloody likely but she had better think of something. In spite of her trepidation, she wanted this child and would deal with the changes as they would inevitably come. How would Sherlock react?  She did not want to think about that right now as happily-ever-after for Sherlock and Molly was highly unlikely. Sighing and stretching, she picked up her well-thumbed book and settled into the couch next to Toby. Finally relaxing, she sipped her tea and lost herself in the romantic and eminently distant and comforting world of “Persuasion”.

“Now”, she asked Toby with a slight smile, “What would Jane do?” Toby looked up at her and said not a word. 

******

Across town in an anonymous grey glass tower, Mycroft Holmes sat behind his desk and worried. He had not heard a single word from his damnable little brother in months and though he had done his best to keep track of him through his network on the continent, they had lost him somewhere outside of Amsterdam.  Head in his hands, he tried to will away the headache he felt creeping up on him.  He had been plagued with migraines since he was a child; debilitating migraines that often left him shaking and weak and unable to leave a dark and silent room for days. 

Opening his desk drawer, he pulled out a bottle and shook out two tablets into his hand. Quickly and before he could change his mind, he swallowed the pills and took a quick sip of tea to make sure they went down.  They would make him slightly muzzy headed but that was far better than pain that would take him out completely for days. Worry over Sherlock was wearing him out. He had left Mycroft in charge of his little pets and swanned off to who knows where, blithely thinking that no one would possibly be concerned over a three month silence - typical but highly irritating.

His surveillance reports had been routine and nothing out of the ordinary had been observed in the lives of any of Sherlock’s friends. All parties were at level one and unless things changed, they would remain as such. John Watson had been drinking too much, Mrs. Hudson had maintained her usual level of dottiness, Greg Lestrade was climbing out of the black pit of his demotion and Molly Hooper, well Molly Hooper alternated between her flat and the morgue and did little else.  They had all exhibited continuing bouts of grief over Sherlock and John had especially suffered.  He had no idea how close the two of them had been but John was still obviously devastated by loss. 

Mycroft, secure in his knowledge that Sherlock was still alive, wondered at the depth of feeling these people had exhibited towards his irascible and mostly unpleasant little brother. He loved Sherlock but in many ways they were very much the same. How had Sherlock somehow transcended his solitude and found real friends? As far as Mycroft knew there was no one on earth, save his parents and Sherlock that gave a damn about him. Why was that fact bothering him now early in his fourth decade? Was he jealous of his brother’s friends?  They certainly had no use for him and though Mrs. Hudson was polite, Watson and Lestrade did nothing to hide their distain. Some serious self-reflection was in order when he had the time.

Molly Hooper. Why did the small pathologist keep popping up in his head? She had surprised him the last time they spoke, bravely invading his private space and asking directly for what she needed. He had not thought her capable of stringing more than two words together at a time. She had made him look at her, really look and when he did he found himself thrown slightly off balance. There was thinking and feeling human hiding behind the cheap clothes and nervous affect. Self-reflection required indeed.

There was a polite but firm knock on the door and his PA, Anthea, entered while glancing at her mobile.  Her usually calm face was concerned.  “We have picked up some unusual activity centering on the Hooper woman.  She seems to be highly nervous and has been visiting her neighborhood clinic more than usual. No sign of poisoning but we can’t be sure. We have not gone after her records as the situation did not seem to warrant such an action. Not much to go on but I don’t like the feel of it. I think it merits further scrutiny.”

“Obtain the records, forward me the report and I will evaluate. I will let you know if I think any action is in order. Thank you, Anthea, you may go.” He stretched his neck and once more willed the headache to go away.

She looked at him and narrowed her eyes in concern. “Headache? Bad? Have you taken your meds?”

Mycroft knew better than to try to lie to her. “Yes.” He said with a put upon sigh.

Anthea shook her head, picked up a remote from a side table and pressed a button.  There was a soft whir as the automatic shades fell, dimming the room. “I would advise a thirty minute break away from your desk, preferably on the couch with no electronics to make things worse.  The Hooper situation can wait that long and there are no wars to end this afternoon, at least not any wars on your plate.” Anthea smiled gently but her face was insistent. “Can’t work with you through a migraine so let’s try a little proactive prevention, shall we?  Or, do I have to call your mum?”

Mycroft’s eyes narrowed but he knew better than to argue with Anthea. Perhaps he did have at least one friend though he paid an exorbitant salary to insure it. Another item for further reflection.

“Thank you, Anthea, excellent if ill-timed idea.  However, for both of our sakes, I shall comply.”


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Molly was on edge.  It was Friday and with three days off she should be happy but something was not right. She was home, getting ready to go and meet her mum for lunch and do a bit of shopping. Not the most exciting of plans, but it was better than staying home alone.  She would have to tell her mum about the baby soon and was not looking forward to her reaction. However, her mum was not the source of her current unease.

She thought that she was being followed or watched but that could very well be the Mycroft factor. Whatever the case, her nerves were high and she knew something wasn’t right. She had not called him and was just avoiding the inevitable. He had specifically told her to call him in just this circumstance. It was hard for her to be defiant as it did not come naturally but Mycroft just brought it out in her. She sighed as she rummaged through her closet for something to wear. Why bother, she thought to herself, it’s not like anyone was going to notice her, no matter what she wore.

Love had been elusive for her and although she had met many fine and not so fine men, none of them held her interest for long. They all were dull, married or crazy. She still hoped she would meet someone someday who would love her deeply and exclusively; someone who would see past the shyness and awkwardness and love her for herself. Also, someone who had a brain and read book now and then – a real book, not just a pile of sports magazines. Sherlock had set her on fire with longing but look how that turned out. She hoped he was all right and missed him but did not know how he might fit into her new reality on his return. What did she want?  She didn’t know.

Well, maybe she did know. Perhaps it was because her Da had died when she was little, but she wanted someone who would take care of her as she longed to take care of someone. Someone to evoke passion in her but be there for the long haul, no matter what. There had to be more than this mad rush of work and seemingly endless stream of shallow men.  She longed for a richer and more fulfilling life than she had now. Happiness did not come from externals, she knew that, but having a partner to share her days would be nice. More than nice, especially now.

She sighed and pulled her one decent pair of dark wash jeans from her closet.  She had better enjoy wearing them while she still could. “Oh Lord, maternity clothes” she muttered to herself. She had a hard enough time picking out regular things.

She pulled a reasonably attractive top out her dresser and went into the loo to put on her face and get ready to meet her mother. She loved her mum but she was tired of being asked about her boyfriends or lack thereof.  Molly knew her mom just wanted her to be happy but no matter who she had brought home her mother had hated them. Also she just didn’t believe that her job at Bart’s and life in London was worth much. Husband, house, children – that’s what was important to her.  Well, Molly was going to give her one of those at least. Her mum’s heart was good and she had always supported Molly though in rather a conditional way.  She blew hot and cold, punishing her with week-long silent treatments that had been difficult for her as a child.  She managed her mum, just like so many other things in her life, and it was exhausting. However, she was all that Molly had left and when she was gone…Molly did not want to think about that.

She took one last look in the mirror before grabbing her coat and purse.  She looked tired but otherwise reasonably normal. “Make nice, Molly, and do not rise to the bait.” she muttered as she left her flat.

******

Lunch had been fine though her mum had complained the Thai food was too spicy. Molly loved Thai after a childhood of grey meat and pale sauces.  Not that her mum was a bad cook, just not very inspired. When garlic and green peppers were exotic, you knew you were at the Hooper house.

They were now making their way through the shopping area; window shopping and talking but not buying much. This weekly ritual had very little to do with spending money or buying anything. It was something that Molly had set up in order to stay close to her mum. They were both getting older and Molly had started to detect the first vestiges of old age in her only parent. Who knew how much more time they might have to do something as simple as lunch and shopping? Molly hoped for enough time to prove to her mom that she would be fine, even alone and as a single mother. She guessed one never stopped hoping for and wanting a parent’s approval and unconditional love.

Single mother.  Maternity clothes. Nappies, cribs, bottles… Molly had been in denial for several months.  This was going to be exhausting and expensive. She would need all the help she could get and hoped her mum would understand and support her decision to keep the baby.

They had just emerged from Molly’s preferred apothecary where she had purchased more of her favorite shower gel and body lotion.  She did not spend much on her clothes but she delighted in the small luxury of finely scented toiletries. It was a nice contrast to the smell of formaldehyde that clung to her when she left work after the end of a shift. Nothing was better than a long, hot shower and the wonderful scent of freesia to make a woman feel better.

“Well, Mum, it’s getting late. How about we have tea and I will see you on your way. Why don’t we stop at that tea shop you like near the train?”

“Whatever you like, dear. Are you sure you are all right? You’ve been very quiet all day, is something on your mind?  Is it that detective chap?  You need to move on. Can’t be mooning after a dead man, trust me, I know.”

“I know, mum” Molly sighed. My goodness, there was going to be a lot to explain about “that detective chap” in very short order. 

The tea shop was just ahead and Molly and her mother had just started in when a gleaming black car with heavily tinted windows pulled up to the curb. Molly started to have a bad feeling with the name Mycroft all over it. Her mum raised an eyebrow at the car. “Very posh for this neighborhood. Do you think it’s someone famous?” Her mum craned her neck for a better look.

Infamous was more likely, thought Molly as the car doors opened and two very large men dressed in ubiquitous dark suits emerged and headed in their direction. They could be government men or they could be something far more sinister. Her nerves kicked up as the thought occurred to her that it might not be Mycroft after all. John Watson had told her that Mycroft had snatched him off the street, scared him silly and then tried to bribe him to inform on Sherlock. Please let it be that and not part of the Moriarty network.

The men stepped up to Molly and one said “Miss Molly Hooper, your presence is required by the British government.  Please come with us.” Molly’s mum looked at her in surprise. The man reached to take her by the arm and Molly narrowed her eyes and pulled away.

Molly puffed herself up as large as she could for her tiny size, raised her chin and said “I am out with my mum and if he-who-is-the-British-government wants to talk to me it can bloody well wait until I see my mum off on the train. I don’t know who you are and I do not get into black cars with strange men. Now, go away and tell your boss if he wants to talk to me he can contact me personally. Come on, mum, let’s go.”

A flash of irritation cased across the man’s face and he said “Miss Hooper, I must insist you come with us right now.  The British government will brook no delay.” He once again reached for her arm.

Molly had had enough of these well-dressed goons. She raised her head again and stepped directly up to the man pointing a small finger into his face. “If you even try to touch me I shall start to scream, that police officer across the street will not react well and you will have a lot of explaining to do as to why you are bullying me and my mum who have done nothing more dangerous today than buy some knickers and bath gel.” As her voice rose, several people on the street stopped to stare. “Tell the British government to stuff it.”

“Molly!  Language!” her mum sputtered as Molly took her arm and they walked quickly away from the men into the train station, their afternoon spoiled. Molly tamped down her anger, put her mum on the train after making a hasty and rather lame explanation about a high level case she was working on at Bart’s and caught the next train towards home.  “Very hush-hush and need to know kind of case” she said and was rewarded by a glimmer of respectful awe in her mum’s face.  Looks like mum will have plenty to tell the neighbor lady tonight - just the beginning of a banner month for gossip for her mum and the old neighborhood.

Molly leaned back in her seat, closed her eyes and willed herself to be calm.  She was going to bloody kill Mycroft Holmes.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

The trains had been awful and it took Molly over an hour to reach home.  She was tired and still hotly angry over the car incident. Perhaps her very public rebuff of Mycroft’s men had taught him a lesson. She was sure if Mycroft Holmes hated anything, he hated a public scene. She hoped her lack of cooperation had given him heartburn.

At the door of her flat, she struggled with her keys and packages. Sherlock had told her that her locks were woefully inadequate but they were enough trouble to her as they were and so she had done nothing about them. Finally getting the key to turn, wrenching open the door and focused on a cup of tea, she caught a glimpse of dark profile sitting on her couch.

Fear gripped her instantly and she reacted by throwing the heaviest item at her disposal, her new shower gel, at the seated figure. There was a thump, an oath and just as Molly turned to run a voice came from across the room. “Really, Miss Hooper? Is your best defense against a possible intruder shying a bottle of shampoo at them? It is wonderment you still walk the earth.” He paused and if possible looked even more offended. “And, I do not take being told to “stuff it” by my staff well at all.”

Pulse slowing though anger still much in evidence, she switched on the light. Mycroft Holmes sat on her ratty old couch looking like an exotic orchid in the bargain aisle at Tesco. He was rubbing his shoulder and looking thunderous. Pity indeed she hadn’t caught him in the side of the head or that the bottle hadn’t ruptured. 

“Get out of my flat, NOW!” She shouted and held open the door for him.

Still as a viper on the couch, Mycroft gave her a long, cold look and said, “I am afraid I cannot do that Miss Hooper. I have had a bit of news today that has caused me no end of consternation. Are you or are you not pregnant with my brother’s child?”

Molly sighed heavily and seemed to deflate. She closed the door behind her, hung up her coat on a hook near the door and put down her purse and rest of her shopping. Not looking at Mycroft she crossed the room and said “Tea.  I am going to make tea. Would you like some tea?”

Rising and coming towards her, Mycroft hissed, “No, Miss Hooper, I do not want tea.  I want an answer and I want it now.” He loomed over her and Molly seemed to shrink even more as his bulk filled her small kitchen.

Sighing and grabbing the kettle, she filled it with water and said quietly “All right, stop being a bully and let me make my tea. I will tell you everything but please back off; you are making me nervous.”

“I do not bully women.” He said shortly, sitting down at her small kitchen table.

“Fine” she quipped and said nothing more until the tea was done and there were two cups on the table and a plate of shortbread between them.  She hoped he would choke on it but her mum had raised her to be polite.  She added sugar to her tea, stirred it thoroughly and turned towards Mycroft, looking directly into his eyes.  She was calmer now, less angry and past ready to talk.  Perhaps finally sharing her news would give her permission to enjoy the fact she was going to be a mother. She had been caught out and there was nothing for it but to tell the truth.

She took a deep breath and looked at him levelly. “I am pregnant and the child is Sherlock’s.”

There was a quick intake of breath from Mycroft but he said nothing. The hand that held his tea twitched almost imperceptibly and then became still.

“I had been debating when to tell you, when to tell my mum, but I was frightened and worried and ashamed. I knew I couldn’t avoid it forever but wanted to wait until I was mostly through my first trimester before I told anyone.” She took a sip of her tea, dipped her head and looked at him sadly. “I am sorry, Mycroft, I should have told you earlier.  I know that Sherlock is a pressure point for you and I know you are doing your utmost to keep him safe and his friends safe. Please understand I did not withhold this information because I didn’t trust you.

She paused and looked at him beseechingly. “Sherlock cannot know, not yet. He just left and he needs to take care of the Moriarty network so we can all be safe, not just me. Please promise me you won’t tell him.”

Mycroft studied her from across the table, his face a neutral mask. After a moment, he nodded.

“I am sure you have seen all the files by now or you wouldn’t be here.  The baby is developing normally and there is no indication of any problems. I am entering my fourth month and though I am starting to feel a bit queasy some mornings and can’t seem to stomach coffee, I am fine as well. I feel woefully unprepared to be a parent but I know I want this baby.  Whether Sherlock will want it I cannot say but I want it and that is enough for me.”

He still said nothing and his steady and almost unblinking gaze was unnerving. What was he thinking? How had she never noticed the color of his eyes? They were like a thunderstorm at dusk. Grey blue and shot with gold.

She shook her head, looked at him and then quickly looked away. “You don’t want me to get rid of it do you? I can’t do that Mycroft.”

Mycroft put down his tea and sighed. What had Sherlock been thinking? Poor girl, he had to do something.

 “I wish you had told me earlier, Miss Hooper, I might have been able to reduce your stress and offer you aid. No, I do not want you to “get rid of it”. This child is Sherlock’s responsibility and by extension my responsibility. Our mother raised us to be gentlemen and to do the honorable thing by women.” He rose and looked down at her, his voice softer than she had ever heard it.  “I need to think and mull over some options.  I am concerned for you, especially with the uncertainty over the Moriarty network. Your health is important as well as your continued safety. I need some time to formulate a plan that might be acceptable to all concerned.  Are you willing to at least consider allowing me to assist you?” He cocked his head and waited.

Molly paused, rose and warily addressed him, most of her anger gone. “All right, I am willing to listen and accept some help but I will not be bullied.”

“No bullying and reason shall win out? And no more lobbing shampoo at me?” he queried, his eyes on hers. He extended his hand towards her cautiously as if she might slap it.

“It was shower gel and you deserved it for scaring me. However, I need help and am willing to admit it. I agree.” Feeling foolish but needing make some amends, she reached out, took his hand and shook it. It was warm and firm in hers and even this brief human contact made from him her feel better. She still didn’t trust him completely but she did believe he meant what he said.

“Excellent. I shall be back to you in a few days and we will talk again.  In the meantime, I am having your locks replaced on your entry door and windows. They are woefully inadequate. Good night, Miss Hooper.” He nodded in farewell and swept out the door without a glance back.

Not another one, Molly thought, shaking her head and hearing Sherlock’s voice in her head. They were far from twins but they were certainly both Holmes. Picking up the teacups and putting them in the sink she felt herself relax for the first time in months. They would get through this together and together was much better than alone.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Molly was livid.  Her face was bright red, her blood was up and she wanted to punch Mycroft Holmes in his long, supercilious nose.  Mycroft was smoldering and glaring daggers at the small pathologist. It was mid-afternoon and they had come to an impasse in their discussion and neither party was willing to give way.

They were meeting in his office several days after their talk at her flat.  He had been as good as his word and she was contacted the next morning by a locksmith who had installed a ridiculous amount of hardware on her doors and windows. At least the locks were easier to open than her old ones and Molly had been briefly grateful to the older Holmes.  Now she just wanted to throttle him.

“No, I will not move.  No, I will not quit my job. No, I will not sign these papers giving you joint custody of my unborn child and no I will not accept this creepy support agreement.  Have you just spent the last three days with your lawyer? It was waste of your money. No, no and no.” Molly crossed her arms and glared at him across the tea table. “I thought you said reasonable – none of this” she said scattering the papers, “is reasonable.”

Mycroft sat and watched as the small pathologist ranted. Interesting indeed. Could this flash of ill temper be hormone related? He really must pick up a book on the subject of pregnancy.  Note to self; ask Anthea to pick him up several volumes on the subject. She had seemed so rational the other night by the time he left.  Perhaps he had miscalculated.

“Miss Hooper, I am just trying my best to protect you and give some reasonable options.  You work in a chemical laden environment, you live in a marginally safe neighborhood and your salary is quite frankly a joke.  You have been frugal and have saved quite a tidy sum but how long do you think that will last without my help?” He crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. “Be reasonable, Miss Hooper. I am only trying to help you.”

Molly had had enough. “I am being reasonable. I explained to you that I would soon have the option of shifting my duties in the morgue to paperwork for the duration of my pregnancy, thus avoiding chemical exposure.  You have already trussed up my flat in hundreds of pounds of hardware and I am seeing creepy black cars everywhere. All you haven’t done is wire my flat with CCTV cameras and that…” Molly did not finish her sentence as suddenly Mycroft Holmes was looking decidedly uncomfortable.

“You didn’t. You couldn’t.” Getting no response from him, she leapt to her feet grabbed her purse and made for the door.  “I can’t believe you had cameras put in my flat. What do you think you would see?  Me and my cat making tea, watching crap telly and reading?  Do you think I am drinking on the sly?  Eating nothing but junk? Not taking my prenatal vitamins?  Having strange men in for pregnant lady sex? You are horrid!”  She turned her back on him and left the office, slamming the door behind her.

Mycroft sighed and keyed his smart phone. “Anthea, where is Miss Hooper going?”

“It appears she is heading for the main lobby. Do you wish her to be detained?”

“No, but I do wish her to be delayed somewhat.  Perhaps a slight slowdown of the lift is in order? We haven’t used that one in quite a while.” Mycroft rose and started walking towards a secondary lobby stairwell hidden at the back of his office.

 

“Yes, sir, delayed but not obviously so. What is the plan?”

 

“The plan, as you so charmingly put it, is for me to catch up with Miss Hooper in the lobby and attempt to talk sense into her without resorting to drastic measures. Wish me luck.” He quickened his pace on the stairs and was almost to the lobby.

“Good luck indeed, sir.  She looked rather irate on her way past, are you sure she will keep to your agreement and not lob anything at you? How’s that shoulder doing?” Anthea was grinning like a dog, he could tell by her voice.

“Very funny and I will not need back up, thank you very much.”

“Whatever you say, sir. I am just a phone call away.”

******

Molly flew down the long hall to the lifts in a rage barely seeing her surroundings as she immolated sodding Mycroft Holmes in her head. How dare he insinuate that she couldn’t take care of herself and her baby?  How dare he try to buy her off? How dare he put cameras in her bloody flat! And all those legal documents – if this was his idea of reasonable he could just stuff it.

She pressed the lift button and the wait for the care seemed interminable. She should have gone to the loo before barging out of Mycroft’s office but it was too late now. Just as she was going to turn back to look for one, the doors opened and she stepped inside.  Just her and an anonymous government drone in a slate grey suit. Did they all dress according to the secret agent handbook or what?  The drone avoided her eyes and remained silent. She pressed the button to the lobby. Leaned against the wall and briefly shut her eyes.

Why had he chosen the legal route? Why had he tried to harangue her into an arrangement that took so much control away from her?  What did he know that she didn’t know?  Was he telling her the truth? Did he really care about the future of his niece or nephew or was he just trying to manipulate her? He had seemed almost caring the other night at her flat. Why had he gone all control freak on her in the interim?  She was intelligent enough to know they would talk again but this time it would be on her turf.  A nice, neutral café where they could have tea and talk like civilized people. Excellent, she would leave this hive of government efficiency and head back to her “marginal” flat to calm down.  Perhaps they could try again in a day or two. Why was this damn lift so slow?

The floor bell rang and Molly straightened up and faced the doors.  She glanced up into the mirrored surface and saw the drone pull a gun from a chest holster. He leveled it at her head and approached her from behind. Her eyes went wide.

“All right, bitch, we are going to leave this lift very slowly and calmly and take a little ride. I work for some people who would very much like to talk to you about a dead detective.” He took her arm and twisted it violently. The pain was intense and she saw spots in front her eyes. “Do you understand me, bitch? Struggle and you will get a bullet in your brain. Your choice. Better think before this door opens.” 

Molly’s mind was racing and she forced it to slow down. How could she get away?  Should she cooperate or fight?  Oh god, what if the baby got hurt? She would fight as she predicted if he got her into a car she would never get away. She wished she had chosen to be anywhere but here today.

The elevator door sliced open and she and the drone entered the lobby right into the path of Mycroft Holmes. He saw the fear in her face and at the same time saw the flash of a high caliber weapon in the hand of the man behind her. He pressed a button on the side of his mobile and let it drop to the floor.

Time seemed to slow down as a silent communication, eyes only, passed between him and Molly Hooper.  Her eyes were a soft brown, flecked with a darker amber color. Why had he not noticed before?  Agate eyes and very afraid. She was going to try to get away.  Even now she was slowing down slightly in order to get the man with the gun into closer proximity when she would…what?  She was so tiny and the man was over 6 feet tall, how could she even try to disable him? Mycroft’s brain raced.  Must save her and must save Sherlock’s child.  Time was spinning out and as quickly as it had begun to slow, it snapped back up to speed and they had almost reached him, standing quietly, alone and unarmed in the cavernous lobby.  People flowed around him but all he saw was Molly, the gun and the man. 

Molly turned 30 degrees and slowed down even more.  The man nudged into her, forcing her forward.  Her eyes locked on Mycroft’s for a moment and he saw her give him the tiniest of nods. She spun quickly, stomping with her entire weight on the man’s instep. Using her thigh muscles like pistons, she came out of her crouch and launched herself away, landing almost seven feet distance on the marble floor. Ouch, that hurt, she thought as she scrambled to get to her knees. Out of the corner of her eyes she saw Anthea and several other armed men hanging back and waiting for an opportunity to strike. The crowd in the lobby had scattered like frightened birds

Mycroft was on the man in an instant and the gun fell and clattered across the floor towards Molly. She lunged for it but it was kicked away by the struggling men. She lunged for it again and this time she got it.  Mycroft was holding his own but the other man was younger, stronger and quicker and he was losing ground. Leaping to her feet and assuming a two handed, spread leg stance, she raised the gun. “Mycroft!” she screamed to get his attention. Both heads snapped towards her.  Thank goodness for pistol practice with Lestrade. She actually looked like she knew what she was doing. Anthea and the others had drawn their guns as well.

“Stop now or I will shoot.” she yelled. Both men stopped and then Mycroft gave the man a mighty shove, separating them by several yards and placing the man in a position for a clear shot.  The drone looked at her, made a decision and rushed her.  She felt the recoil of the weapon in her hand, heard a loud report and saw the blood.  The man fell, wounded, and Molly Hooper, still clutching the gun, sank to the floor.  Anthea and the others pinned the injured man as Mycroft made his way through the spreading blood to Molly.

“Molly” he said softly as if to a shying horse, “put down the gun.” He approached her slowly from the front with his hands out. She watched him come, silent tears streaming down her face. Close now, just inches away she let the gun settle into her lap and leaned into his legs. The wool was soft and warm beneath her cheek. He knelt, checked the gun, engaged the safety and slid it away across the floor. She started to shake and when he put his arms around her she did not resist. Her hair was soft and smelled like flowers.

She hid her face in his shirtfront and whispered. “I was so afraid. All I could think about was the baby and mum and Sherlock and how badly I wanted to live. Oh Mycroft, what am I going to do? I feel so alone.”

One arm still around her, he helped her to her feet. He would be damned before she went through this alone. He would study the problem and come up with an acceptable answer. He was the smarter Holmes brother after all.

“You did well, Molly Hooper,” he said gently, giving her his handkerchief to wipe her eyes, “I have never seen a braver pathologist, or a fiercer one. I am sure you will agree with me once you see the security footage.” Mycroft paused, reconsidering. “After a suitable interval, that is. Come back upstairs, let’s shred all that paperwork and then get you to a safe place.”

They turned and Mycroft shot a look to Anthea which she translated as “no police, hold him for later, I want a piece of this one.” Anthea inclined her head in acknowledgement. If he lived, this sorry bastard was in for it.

Molly looked once more at the blood on the floor, gathered herself and stepped deliberately away from Mycroft. She lifted her head, squared her shoulders and looked him full in the face. Her face was streaked with tears but she looked determined and calm. Good girl he thought as he raised an eyebrow and gave her a grim smile. She looked up at him, mirrored his smile and together they took the stairs back up to his office.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

There was a brief negotiation but in the end Molly agreed to spend at least one night at the residence, Mycroft’s town home, until he could insure her safety. All of the fight had gone out of her and she was wrung out. Her shoulder hurt from when the man had had twisted it and the marble floor in the lobby had not been kind to her hip and knees.  Mycroft needed to see to a few details but he would send her ahead with Anthea who would introduce her to staff and get her settled in one of the guest rooms.

They left Mycroft in his office, fingers steepled, where he sat for twenty minutes setting a tight control on his rising anger and reviewing in his mind all that had happened this afternoon. How had this happened and right under the nose of his staff?  How had this man known Miss Hooper would be here and how had the bastard got past security?

Mycroft thumbed his cell phone. “Anthea, where are you and what have you gotten thus far?”

“I am on my way back from the residence. Miss Hooper has been turned over to Mrs. Carlton who I’m sure will make her feel at home.”

“As for her attacker, he is still unconscious and may not survive. The bullet clipped several organs and he lost a lot of blood. Soft tipped bullet and a lot of damage. The doctors say he has a 30% chance of surviving. He is breathing on his own but his pulse is thready and his BP unstable.” Anthea paused, “Miss Hooper is a better shot than she thinks. No ID except for a very professional fake government ID badge under the name of William Scott. Why do I know that name? Fingerprints have been run but so far no hits in Europe or the US. Unless he lives, we will have very little to go on.”

Mycroft became very still.  It was as he had thought. “You know that name because it belongs to my little brother.  My parents could not help themselves in naming us after every dead relative in the book.  His full name is William Sherlock Scott Holmes. Someone suspects that Sherlock is not dead and that Molly Hooper is the key.  She will have to be heavily protected and she is not going to like it.”

Mycroft rose, mobile to his ear. “Get me a car.  I am going home to see to Miss Hooper and do some research from there. Send me everything you have on him. Keep me updated as to his status. I want to know if anything changes. Keep trying on those fingerprints. This bastard had to come from somewhere.”

He crossed the office, grabbed his topcoat and umbrella and was out the door in a sweep of grey and black wool. Stepping outside, he looked up into evening sky. Rain was coming. He could smell it and though the twilight was a soft golden pink, in only a few hours it would be grey and wet. Time to play his last card with Miss Hooper and make a proposal. Their lives were going to change and he only hoped that Molly Hooper would see the logic in this one last, outrageous bit of theatre and be willing to play her part.

 

******

Molly had been quiet on the way to the residence and had been rethinking what Mycroft had offered her this afternoon. He meant well even though his methods irritated her. She wondered why he felt he needed so much control. There was a back-story there and she wondered if she would ever know it. She was still clutching his handkerchief; fine cotton embroidered with elegant initials. She lifted it to her nose and caught a faint whiff of sandalwood. She folded it carefully and put it into her pocket.

 Anthea had seen her into the car, made sure she was buckled in and went right back to tapping on her phone. She had smiled enigmatically at Molly’s brief attempt to start a conversation but made no effort to reciprocate. Just as well as Molly had a lot to think about.

She had not wanted to listen to Mycroft this afternoon but now everything had changed. She, no they, had prevailed over this lone gunman but how many more were in line behind him? The attempt to kidnap her had to be related to Sherlock and his ongoing dance with the Moriarty network. They had been lucky this time.  She did not want to think about what might have happened if Mycroft had not followed her down to the lobby. He risked his life for her this afternoon and she could not forget his face as he stood alone, watchful and trusting her to make the correct decision. Their communication had been crystal clear and for one brief moment they had been one. How had that been possible?  She barely knew him and yet when thrown into the worse scenario she could imagine, they had prevailed together. Of course, it was sheer luck that had delivered the gun into her hand and sheer chance that she had hit her target, even after her hours of training with Lestrade at a gun range. Greg should be the one to see the security footage, she wasn’t sure if she would ever have the stomach to watch it herself.

She felt sick over shooting the drone even though she knew logically he had forced her hand. She knew what death was; she dealt with it every day but she had never dealt it out. She hoped he would live but it was doubtful as the amount of blood had indicated serious damage. She was sure there would be a lot of second guessing in the days to come but right now she was just tired, her shoulder hurt and she wanted to lie down.

The car pulled up to the rear of a nondescript building with a concrete portico over a windowless entrance.  Anthea keyed her mobile as the car arrived, a door opened and an older woman came out to meet them. The woman was stout but fit with a no nonsense stride and a friendly, if cautious, smile.

Anthea nodded to Molly and with her phone still in her hand, got back into the car and was gone.

“Oh you poor thing, Mister Mycroft has just told me what you’ve been through this afternoon. Horrible, just horrible. You must be quite done up.  Well we can fix that for you. Come with me and we will get you settled.” The woman took Molly’s arm and led her inside. “My name is Mrs. Carlton, welcome to the residence.”


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Molly looked around with curiosity as they entered the building. So this is where Mycroft Holmes lived, quite the contrast from Sherlock’s Baker Street flat. The building had looked nondescript from the exterior, just another mixed use building among thousands in London but the interior belied that impression. The wide hall was lined with several offices, a dining room and a library all with pocket doors that were partially or fully opened.  The building had an atrium design with windowless rooms on the outer wall and rooms with windows that looked onto a central green space. She could see a garden, at least one water feature and several trees in the fading light. The floors were ivory marble shot with rust, grey and black and covered with Persian rugs. The lighting was subdued and pleasant, highlighting art and antiques scattered throughout mixed with modern pieces in a seemingly random but pleasing manner. A bit formal for her tastes but elegant and well put together, just like the man who owned it.

They came to a broad staircase and ascended to the second floor. The layout echoed the downstairs but most of the doors were closed, indicating bedrooms or more private spaces. Mrs. Carlton stopped in front of one of the doors and opened it for her and gestured for her to enter.

“Here you go, the linens are fresh and the lavatory should have all you need. There is a television and a computer. The computer is secure so you may use it. I will leave you now but here is the bell.” She indicated a softly glowing button by the door. “If you have need of anything just ring and I or one of the other staff will see to it. Make yourself at home and I will have a light dinner sent up in 20 minutes or so. It is doubtful Mr. Mycroft will be home anytime soon so he asked me to have you eat without him.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Carlton, but I am very tired. Could you please wait an hour before sending the food up?  I need to freshen up and want to take a short lie down.  It’s been a hard day.” Molly hoped she did not sound as pitiful as she felt.

“Oh, you poor dear, of course, I wasn’t thinking. That’s just fine.  You have a good rest and I will bring dinner up in an hour.” Mrs. Carlton smiled gently at her and left, closing the door behind her.

Molly dropped her purse on the bedside table and looked around the room.  Soft carpets, soft lighting and a soothing color palate of ambers and greys. She kicked off her shoes, checked out the loo, lay down on the king size bed after nabbing a throw off of a love seat and was instantly asleep.

******

In a the darkness of a private room across the city, a man lay in a hospital bed, his breathing shallow and an IV in his arm.  His face was pale and provided little contrast to the stark white linens. He was alone and unaware of the guards outside his door.  At a little before 8:00 PM, the door opened and a lone figure entered. Looking down at the man, the fact that he had failed hovered as an unseen thought in the air. Pity, he had been relatively useful for a time but all that was done now.  A hand holding a fine syringe floated just behind his ear.  The plunger was depressed, the syringe removed and pocketed and the lone figure left the way they came in. Less than thirty minutes later two nurses rushed down the hall in response to rapidly beeping medical monitors. All they found after getting past the guards was a dead man and an otherwise empty room.

******

Mycroft swept into the hall at the residence and went directly to his office. Removing his topcoat and stowing his umbrella in the stand by the door, he loosened his tie and booted up his computer. Nothing. Leaning back in his chair and stretching, he keyed his cell phone. 

“Anthea, report.” He closed his eyes and tried to will away the headache that was forming behind his eyes.  Not now…he could not get a migraine right now.

“He’s dead. I was just about to call you. He died less than 10 minutes ago. There was nothing more the doctors could do. Sorry, sir.” Anthea sounded as aggravated as he felt.

“Not your fault but highly unfortunate. I was hoping for more data from him but we will obviously have to work with what we have. Have a full autopsy done and I need photos and a full inventory of his personal possessions. Have you had any luck with the fingerprints and gun?” Mycroft leaned his head into his hand and pinched the bridge of his nose. It was going to be a long night.

 

******

Molly woke and was momentarily disoriented. Then she remembered the horrible afternoon and that she was safe at Mycroft’s town home. Oh damn, she had forgotten all about Toby. She rose and was just about to ring her neighbor on her cell when there was a gentle knock at the door.  

“Come in.” She said feeling a bit foolish at the formality in her voice.

Mrs. Carlton poked her head around the door. “Mr. Mycroft has arrived and wants to know if you might like to have dinner with him in the library. It’s fairly late and so it will just be soup and bread.”

“I would like that. I just need some time to freshen up and I will be right down. I recall passing the library on my way in so I know where it is. Please let Mycroft know I will just be a few minutes.”

“All right, Miss, I will let him know.” Mrs. Carlton softly closed the door.

Molly looked at herself in the mirror; pale with blue shadows under her eyes but otherwise presentable.  She had taken some anti-inflammatories before her nap and the throb in her shoulder had abated somewhat. She was sure she had gotten some spectacular bruises from that marble floor but she had not yet bothered to look.  Maybe after dinner she could take a long, hot soaking bath to ease her aches and pains. She gave her a hair a quick brush and was out the door.

She took a wrong turn immediately but backtracked and was soon down the stairs and on her way to the library. She found him with his hands tented over his eyes rubbing his eyebrows and stretched out in his chair. Hearing her enter he straightened and then rose.

“Miss Hooper, I trust Mrs. Carlton has settled you into a room and that everything is to your satisfaction?” Molly looked at Mycroft and noticed that he too had shadows under his eyes and was looking a bit frayed around the edges.  He was jacketless, had loosened his tie and undone his top shirt button which was more relaxed than she had ever seen him.  She studied him out of the corner of her eye. It made him seem human and a bit more approachable. She even detected a faint stubble of beard on his cheek.

“Yes, I took a quick nap as I was exhausted. I am a bit stiff but will feel better after I eat and take a hot bath. It seems I strained quite a few things this afternoon leaping about.” She smiled and quickly changed the subject. “What a lovely room. Very cozy with the fire and all the books.”

“Well, then” he said, noticing her discomfort and pulling out a chair for her, “you must sit down and have some dinner. I am glad you like the library. It seems that the library is my favorite space no matter where I am. ” She colored slightly, unused to such fine treatment but mumbled her thanks as she sat down.  He really was an old school gentleman.

“I had Anthea send someone to your flat to feed your cat and pick up a few things for you for tonight and tomorrow morning. Those items have been placed in your room. I apologize for not asking your permission first but I thought it expedient to act and then ask forgiveness.”

“Oh, thank you so much. I had been worried about Toby and now I can relax. I appreciate your people packing up some things for me but my closet is rather a fright so I can imagine the time they had. Embarrassing for me but definitely a forgivable offence.” She smiled again and this time the smile reached her eyes.

Mycroft served and they ate in silence the fire crackling in the background. Soon they finished and sat quietly while the staff cleared. 

Mycroft cleared his throat and looked seriously at her. “I am afraid your attacker has died and we are no closer to finding out who he was as we were earlier today. My network is working on tracing him from his clothing, dental work and other personal items but has not had any success thus far.”

Molly looked stricken. “He died? I killed him?” Her eyes filled and swam with unshed tears. “Oh, how awful. I just meant to stop him not kill him. How can I justify what I’ve done?”

Mycroft looked at her sternly. “You will not blame yourself for his death.  Yes, you pulled the trigger but only after being hurt and threatened. Had he retained control of the situation, it is doubtful he would have shown you any mercy at all. You were brave and did just the right thing and his death was the result of his own bad planning and our luck.  I shudder to think what might have happened if I had not chosen to follow you downstairs.  All our lives hang by thread blown by an inconsistent wind but today that wind was in our favor.” He rose. “Come now, it’s late and you need to take that hot bath and get some sleep.  I shall see you in the morning and we will talk about options.”

They walked together down the carpeted hall and up the stairs. Mycroft saw her to her room, said good night and turned to head back downstairs. 

“Wait” she said, gently touching his arm.

“Thank you for following me today and thank you for caring enough to try to help me. I know that you don’t think much of me, that I am silly and stubborn and probably the last person that you would have ever chosen to be a part of your extended family. However, this child will make us family and I want you to know that I trust you implicitly.” She rose quickly on her toes and kissed him lightly on the cheek. “Good night, Mycroft.”

Surprised at her gentle affection, he smiled back at her. Oh, that she would be this accepting in the morning when he outlined his plan. It would take all the trust and faith she had. “Good night, Miss Hooper, sleep well.”


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

It was morning and Molly was sipping jasmine green tea and delicately nibbling on a scone. She was sitting in a wing chair near the window looking down at flowers and trees in the atrium courtyard. It was a rainy, subdued day and matched her mood. She was a bit queasier this morning than usual and was being cautious as to how much and how quickly she ate. It had not gone past general queasiness for now but she knew friends who had been quite sick for the entire nine months. She hoped to be spared that indignity but she would just have to take what came.

She had taken a bath the night before and as predicted she had some serious bruising on one hip and on her legs. Not too deep though and they would be gone in less than a week. Her shoulder was still complaining but that too would pass with time and anti-inflammatories. Thank goodness she did not have to go back to work for several more days.

Mycroft’s people had indeed brought her a selection of clothes from her flat including underthings. It appeared they had tried to pick the most subdued items in her wardrobe and had mostly succeeded. They had brought enough for week but she was sure that they had just thought to give her some choices. She certainly hadn’t considered staying here that long and she was suspicious. How had Mycroft instructed his staff?

There was a soft knock on her door and once again, Mrs. Carlton looked in. “Mr. Mycroft is wondering if you would care to join him in the library before he is off for the day?  There are more substantial breakfast things laid out that may tempt you.” She cocked her head and looked at Molly. “Are you feeling a bit off?”

“Yes, I think morning sickness is starting to manifest in earnest. I hope that I will find some things that I can tolerate eating or it’s going to be a hungry seven months.” Molly smiled grimly.

“I was sick as a dog with my Linda and I may be able to come up with a few things that may help. Let me think on it and I will write a few things down for you.”

Thank you that would be very kind. Please tell Mycroft I will be down in a few minutes.”

“Yes, miss.” Mrs. Carlton smiled and nodded and left Molly to herself. 

She hoped against hope that “sick as a dog” would not be her fate for the duration. She glanced once more in the mirror. She was starting to show; just a wee bit and tunic tops would cover it for now but very soon there would be nothing for it and several very uncomfortable conversations were going to take place.

In spite of her nerves and the horror of the last 48 hours, she felt better. She couldn’t help hope that everything was going to be all right; that the pregnancy would go well, her mum would be thrilled at the prospect of a grandchild and that Sherlock would come home and want to be a dad. Well, she wasn’t quite sure about those last two. Not disowned would be good and perhaps between the two Holmes brothers they could both assume that role? Now there was an idea she might share with Mycroft.

 

******

 Mycroft was reading the morning paper, his tea at his elbow and feeling decidedly nervous.  As much as he told himself that what he was about to propose to Miss Hooper was strictly business, he felt uneasy as he made arrangement for the papers last night and briefly visited the family vault in the basement this morning. The papers were in a neat pile ready for their signatures and the other was safely stowed in a vest pocket just in case he was successful in convincing her of his plan. A bit unorthodox, perhaps even shocking, but it might provide her the answers and peace of mind she had been searching for these past months.  It would certainly give him freer rein and more resources to protect her.

His brow furrowed in irritation as he thought of the dead man and the lack of information on yesterday’s attack.  Discovering who this man was, who had sent him and what that person wanted was paramount if he was to put a system in place to protect Miss Hooper. She had surprised him with her resiliency and her ability to get past the events of yesterday. True, she knew death and handled corpses every day, but she herself had never been the cause. She would feel badly for a while but those feelings might eventually fade to level where she could live with them. He remembered the first time he had killed a man; the sick regret and the leaden guilt. He would do his best to make it easier for Miss Hooper if he could.

Molly entered the library and he rose to greet her, pulling out a chair and re-taking his seat. He did not smile and his face was a neutral mask. Was that good or bad, she wondered, as he poured her some tea and waited silently while she fixed it to her liking. She looked up into his face and found no clue of what was to come.

“Good Morning, Miss Hooper, I trust you slept well?” Ah, so pleasantries first to break the awkwardness.

She smiled easily at him tamping down her nerves. “Yes, very well. This house is so much quieter than my flat. I had a bit trouble falling asleep as there was no street noise and no sirens. Funny one might need noise to be able to sleep. I guess I am just used to thin walls.”

“The residence has state of the art soundproofing so unless you are out in the garden, street noise is almost non-existent. I chose this building as the government owns the surrounding blocks and has strict control over usage. We could stage a small army in this neighborhood should the need arise. However, for now the arrangement gives me what I most seek, peace and quiet.” He sipped his tea and leaned back in his chair.

Molly nibbled on her scone and added some melon to her plate. Good grief, Sherlock had always joked that he was the British Government but maybe it wasn’t a joke after all.  With luck, the tea, the scone and the fruit would all stay down if she ingested them slowly enough. So far so good, very little queasiness.

“Mycroft” she said hesitantly “I have been thinking and I was a bit unreasonable yesterday. I came into your office ready to fight and I may not have been listening to you as well as I should have.  I know that you have the baby’s best interest in mind. What if you and Sherlock both had shared custody with me? That way we could cover our bases until Sherlock came home and he and I could decide what to do. So, if anything happened to you, or me, there would still be someone who could look after the child. I know it’s a stretch but you have smart attorneys. I am sure they could write something up that would be acceptable. I don’t want to alienate you through a misplaced need for independence. I know I need help and I want that help from you.  What do you think?” She looked at him hopefully, her hands twisting nervously in her lap.

Reason prevails, thought Mycroft as he smiled at her. “I think your ideas have merit but I would like you to hear me out. My plan is a bit more extreme but it would provide you with a feasible story for your family and the public, allow me freer rein to protect you and the child and alleviate both of our concerns about custody issues. I ask you to please listen to me carefully and hear me out completely before you say anything. Agreed?” He lifted his eyebrows waiting for a response.

“OK, as long as it doesn’t involve leaving England or forced imprisonment for my own good.” She looked at him and her insecurities showed in her brown eyes. “It doesn’t, does it?”

“No, not exactly. Do you agree to listen? To the entire plan?” He settled deeper into his chair and waited.

“Now you are making me nervous but OK. Even you look nervous and that can’t be a good thing.” A crease appeared between Molly’s eyes as she prepared to listen.

He cleared his throat and took a sip of tea to steady his nerves and started in a very unexpected way. “I have been alone for a very long time. Work and duty have always come first for me at the expense of my family and definitely at the expense of any personal relationships I may have wanted to cultivate over the years.  I have no real friends, my relationship with my brother is strained and though I dearly love my parents, I find that I have little to say to them.  However, I have found the thought of an extended family through you and the child you carry has given me hope that my life situation might change. I find that I want to take care of you, want to provide for and take of this child, for Sherlock, for you and most of all for myself. I am forty three and I do not want to spend the remainder of my life alone, friendless and cut off from family.”

Molly’s eyes grew wide as she listened and her heart hurt for him. What it must cost for him to tell her all this.

“Sherlock is gone and is more than likely going to be absent for several years at least. Only you and I and select others know that fact and we are all sworn to secrecy. We have already discussed the merits of telling him or not telling him about the child and have both agreed that he is on a mission of utmost importance, not only for himself but for you and all of his friends. The Moriarty network must be taken down and he is the man to do it. He will be told only as a last resort.”

Mycroft paused, rose and started to pace quietly, hands behind his back. “You need protection, you need financial support and even more importantly, you need the emotional support of friends and family.  The baby is important but so are you and so I am going to make you a proposal.  What I say may shock you as it is unorthodox but it has worked throughout history in just such situations as ours. It will give you choices which are what I perceive you really want. ”

Molly felt her eyes swim. How could such a cold and distant man who barely knew her know what she most wanted right now?

“These papers” he gestured to the neat pile on the far end of the table “will give you all that and more. However, in order for my plan to work you must first agree to something you may find unpalatable.”

Molly squirmed a bit inside. Here it comes, she thought. What he said next surprised her and felt more like a history lesson than a plan.

“In Mediaeval and Renaissance times, men often went off to war. However, the business of their families was never far from their minds as alliances needed to be cemented and financial and personal affairs had to be made in their absence.  One mechanism they often used was marriage by proxy.” Mycroft paused and looked straight at her.

“I propose we marry.” He heard a quick intake of breath from Molly and her eyes widened but as promised, she said nothing.

“It would be a marriage by proxy binding you to the Holmes family and giving your child a father and you a sham husband. I will stand in for Sherlock until his return. There are two sets of papers here, one with my name and one with Sherlock’s name. I propose we marry in plain sight of the world, supported by sham legalities and when Sherlock returns, you two can decide what you would like to do. In any case, our families, your friends and most importantly, the Moriarty network will be aware that you are my wife and all such a status entails.  Your security would be second only to that of the royal family and the prime minister. No one should dare touch you.”

“I realize that this proposal is not what you might have been hoping for. However, it will allow you to feel supported and protected for as long as Sherlock is gone. It will provide me with the comfort of an extended family and it will provide you with independence and protection.  I have thought long and hard and have not been able to come up with a better solution.” He looked at her and then quickly looked away. “Please say yes.”

“I don’t know what to say. It’s a lot to take in all at once. To be clear, you could finesse the paperwork change should Sherlock and I…” Her voice dropped off and she looked at the floor.

“Yes, Molly, should you and Sherlock wish to marry, there will be a quick shuffle of paper and you will be free to do so. It is all in these papers, all you have to do is sign.” He looked expectantly at her. “Some theatre will be required, of course. Your family and your friends will need to believe that the child is mine and we are actually married”

Molly felt vaguely horrified and her thoughts must have shown on her face as Mycroft quickly continued. “Remember, it is theatre, Miss Hooper and nothing more. I would not dream of presuming any conjugal rights and our relationship will remain very much as it is now. However, to the world we must appear as a couple. This will entail a certain amount of public physical contact but since no one could accuse me of being overly affectionate, such occurrences would be very brief and tasteful in nature. There will also be an announcement in the Times and a mock wedding, more than likely at the registrar’s office. However, we will skip posting the banns as that is entirely too Medieval for my taste.”

Molly looked skeptical but he could tell that she was wavering. “You promise me that it will be my choice in the end? I did say that I trusted you implicitly.”

“Yes, I promise.”  He said as earnestly as he could.

“All right then, I’ll do it.” She rose and extended her hand to shake his and instead, looking relieved, he lifted it to his lips, kissed it and gently gave it back to her.

“Excellent. Time to finish breakfast and review and sign this paperwork. Oh, before I forget…” Mycroft pulled a dark blue velvet box out of his vest pocket. He opened it and withdrew a small but elegant ring with old mine cut diamonds and emeralds. “This ring belonged to our grandmother, it is only appropriate that I give it to you as a sign of my commitment to you and the child. It will also serve as a public sign of our engagement. May I?”

“Oh, is this really…Oh, it is so beautiful. Are you sure?” Molly blushed to the roots of her hair.

He reached for her left hand, she gave it to him and he gently placed the ring on her ring finger. “It is as I thought, it fits perfectly and it suits the delicacy of your hand. Congratulations, Miss Hooper, you are now officially engaged.”

Her face on fire and her head spinning, she laughed and said “Molly, Mycroft. I think it’s time you call me Molly.”

 


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

The next few days were a flurry of activity as she and Mycroft refined their plan. She agreed to stay at the residence, give up her flat and to take a leave of absence at work until after the marriage took place. However, she insisted that she be able to return to work as soon as possible afterwards and agreed to an office work only condition. Toby had been relocated to the residence and was happily getting to know his new digs. All of her personal possessions had simply shown up one day in her room, all boxed and neatly labeled. All of her furniture she had donated to a charity that offered services to drug impacted youth. She thought of Sherlock when she did it and hoped her donation would help at least one young addict find their way back to health.

She had a new, secure cell phone and had texted all her new contact data to her mum and her closest friends including John Watson, Mrs. Hudson and Greg Lestrade. Her book club friends had bought her too-busy-right-now-to-play excuse and were mostly leaving her alone. Her mum was probably wondering what was up but she could wait until their regular Friday outing. She was sure all hell would break lose on the friend front once the announcement was published in the Times.  It was scheduled for this coming Saturday, the day after she talked to her mum.

She looked at the announcement, printed out and sitting on her new desk and the black and white reality of it gave her pause. This was really happening and though she knew it was theatre, it was still quite overwhelming.  Brave face and stout heart required she thought as she held it in her hand and read it aloud to herself.

                                                              Forthcoming Marriages

Mr. M.L. Holmes and Miss M.E. Hooper

                                                              The engagement is announced between 

                                                              Mycroft, son of Violet and Loyal Holmes of Surrey,

and Molly, daughter of Helen Hooper and the late

                                                              Gavin Hooper of London.

 

She wished her Da was still here to give her away but since it wasn’t to be a church wedding, she was sure it didn’t really matter. Not quite the wedding she had imagined for herself but all the white dress and flowers stuff were not for a woman like her who sliced up corpses for a living. It would be cut and dried with a minimal of fuss. She thought longingly of her childhood dreams of being married like a princess. Right now she just needed something to wear that wouldn’t embarrass Mycroft.

                                                                                                                                           

Her bedroom had two adjoining spaces that had been prepared for her so she would have a sitting room and an office. She and Mrs. Carlton cheerfully unpacked together and before she knew it, her rooms were ordered and her personal touches were everywhere.  It was amazing how quickly she adapted to having her meals cooked for her, her laundry done and her spaces cleaned. The additional time she had allowed her to work on several conference papers that had been put on the back burner for months. She felt both guilty and relieved that things had gone so smoothly thus far.  Mycroft was gone most days, sometimes late into the night and they had developed a comfortable, if informal, pattern of joining each other for meals when convenient.

No word at all from Sherlock and she too was beginning to fret. Mycroft said little about his brother but she knew he was worried too.  What a pair they made both quietly fretting over something over which they had no control. Sherlock would be laughing if he knew. However, she was unsure how funny he would find her marrying Mycroft even it was by proxy. 

They had arranged for the marriage to take place at the registrar’s office by special license in two weeks’ time; giving her some room to tell her mother about her engagement and pregnancy and giving Mycroft some time to advise his parents as well. Her mother would have a fit and so Molly had set up their Friday shop this week in a slightly higher end and more subdued shopping area. Her mother, very much like Mycroft, hated a public scene and so would more than likely behave herself when told the news. She was not looking forward to her mum’s meeting Mycroft though. She would have to coach him to act slightly less like a pompous prig.  She had gotten used to him by now and it no longer fazed her, but her mum might take it wrong.

God only knows what his parents would think of her. They were probably bloody geniuses like Sherlock and Mycroft. Oh well, the gene pool was being diluted. Perhaps her child would have the Holmes brain and her heart, only time would tell.

She sighed and stretched her hands in the small of her back. She was showing even more and she would have to shop a bit this week for appropriate maternity wear. Perhaps she could go out with Mrs. Carlton or Anthea? Well, maybe not Anthea… She was too glued to her mobile to pay attention anyway. Molly did hope that Anthea would accept the arrangement as Molly knew that she was fond of Mycroft in her own way. Whether that good will would extend to Molly remained to be seen.

“Oh well, time to finish unpacking and think about how best to manage mum on Friday.” She turned, opened yet another box and proceeded to sort, just the thing to distract her from a feeling of eminent disaster.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Mycroft squirmed uncomfortably as the small pathologist posed him with one arm draped around her shoulders.  She had already had the temerity to remove his suit jacket, loosen his tie and unbutton his collar. All this for a blasted “selfie”.

“Mycroft,” she sighed as she placed the cell phone into his hand. “Normal people who are engaged do this and while I know you would prefer a studio portrait by the Queen’s personal photographer, this is what normal people do; they take a selfie with their fiancé to show their mum & best mates. Now stop grimacing, smile and take the damned picture. Your arms are longer than mine.”

Mycroft did as she asked, tolerating her touch as she pulled him close and leaned her head towards his. He extended his arm, bared his teeth and snapped two photos. He took a step back and handed the phone back to Molly who looked at both photos and broke out into merry laughter.

“Good Christ, Mycroft, you look like a shark. I have seen you smile sincerely and you really are lovely when you do. Please go to your happy place and conjure one up for the photo? You’re the one who is insisting on theatre. Well this is theatre, suck it up and take one for the team.” She handed him the camera again and once more snuggled into him. 

Her hair smelled like flowers and she was soft and warm. Mycroft was uncomfortable with her proximity while at the same time enjoying it in secret. No one ever touched him and it took all the self-control he had not to lean into her and purr like her damned cat. He was also feeling a tell-tale stirring below his belt. Not good, not good at all. Could it be that he found Miss Hooper attractive? She thought he had a nice smile? Oh, this would never do.

Coming back to reality, Mycroft once more extended the camera, consciously relaxed his face into a soft smile and pushed to button. Molly glanced up at him in approval. “OK, great. Just one more and your ordeal will be over.”

He was just about to press the button again when Molly surprised him by going up on her toes and kissing him on the cheek. Her small breasts pushed into his side and her warm breath caressed his ear. Blood rushed to his face and he did all he could do to make it stop when the camera clicked and he stepped quickly away from Molly.  Handing her the mobile, he picked up his suit jacket and struggled to regain a modicum of control.

Molly, unaware of his distress looked at the photos on the phone and said, “Oh Mycroft, they are perfect. Both of us look deliriously happy. Take a look…” She looked up and her words died in her throat.  He looked upset and angry. Oh no, she hadn’t meant to upset him.

“Mycroft, I’m sorry, so sorry if I was too forward with you.  I just wanted to get a nice photo of us together to show my mum. Please say you are not angry with me as I never meant to upset you.” Her brown eyes met steely blue and she looked contrite and worried.

“I don’t know if I can do this.” He said tightly not looking at her. His face, once red, had turned pale. He nodded and turned quickly on his heel, leaving her alone with her phone still clutched in her hand.

Oh bugger, now she had done it, she thought as she turned and went back into her room. She would think of something and they would talk tonight. At least she hoped they would.

 

******

Molly sat at her desk and pondered what to do. She had not seen Mycroft since he had abruptly left her this morning and he was probably hiding at his downtown office like a big baby. This had been his idea and he had said that he had wanted to be somewhat convincing.  Well, they had a week. She hoped he would pull his head out and get with the program.

She sighed and sipped her tea. Maybe the best thing would be to write him an e-mail and send him the photos.  Perhaps it was just too hard for him to deal with her directly on this particular subject.

She began:

_Dear Mycroft,_

_Sorry about this morning. I had no idea you would be so uncomfortable and I apologize.  I think we need to talk about “discreet and tasteful” PDA’s. Don’t tell me you don’t know what that means, it was you who suggested that we had to publically appear to be an engaged couple. Engaged couples do not embrace and have one person panic and run away. If you can’t even tolerate a fairly benign photo session, how are you going to tolerate holding my hand, looking at me like you love me and kissing me? You said theatre and so I am trying to supply some material to meet that goal._

_You can do this and if I can get over my discomfort with you, you can get over your discomfort with me. We will have to practice a bit each day, privately at first, and then in public. We have over a week before the wedding so let’s start tonight. I promise to go slowly and will stop if you start feeling uncomfortable.  You are supposed to be this baby’s father, remember?_

_I have attached the two photos you took this morning. I love them, they are perfect. A little awkward but very sweet. Try to think of me as someone you trusted when you were young before responsibility and duty distanced you from people. Think of me as someone who makes you happy.  I promise I will respect your space but to make this work, we have to practice._

_See you tonight. Please don’t fret, everything will be all right._

_L_

_Molly_

She closed her computer, leaned back and stroked Toby who was sitting in her lap. She had made her move and now it was up to him.

 

******

Mycroft sat in the back seat of his car and looked at the photos Molly had sent and reread her e-mail. He was still troubled by the events of the morning but had to admit she was right. He had made the proposal and she had accepted.  She was starting to embrace her role and he had to do so as well. Someone who makes me happy? Conceptually possible but unlikely in the extreme. Sighing heavily, he leaned back into the soft leather. It had been a long and frustrating day and he longed for quiet, dinner and a glass of scotch.

The photos were…well, convincing. Molly’s eyes sparkled as she looked up at him and even his small, slightly self-conscious smile looked genuine. The light and shadow in the photo when she had kissed him was perfect. They looked like they were in love. How oddly comforting given their circumstances. Sherlock would not be pleased if he saw these photos. Too bad, so sad.

He loathed texting as juvenile and stupid but he relented and sent a quick text to Molly.

_Darling, in the car on my way home. I should be there in less than 15.  Join me for dinner? xxx - M_

Molly heard her phone chime and looked at it. A text from Mycroft?  Had the world ended? xxx? Well that was laying it on a bit thick. She read it and laughed. Ahhh, he was willing to play the game. Good though it must be killing him not to use complete sentences.

She texted him back. _Lovely, see you in a few. I will tell Mrs. Carlton you are almost home. Love you - M_

Mycroft looked at her returned text and shook his head. This new thing would take some getting used to.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Molly was waiting for him as the car drove up under the back portico. She smiled sunnily at him, walked out to meet him and placed her hands lightly on his shoulders, making sure that her new ring was obvious and sparkled in the light. She rose up on her toes and kissed him briefly. He returned the kiss, just as briefly, adjusted his grip on his umbrella and put an arm around her shoulders as they went inside.  Left behind them and unseen, his driver’s eyes widened and his jaw dropped.

Molly slid out from underneath Mycroft’s arm as soon as they were out of sight of the door. “See” she said, “That wasn’t that bad, was it? Your office will be buzzing soon and the news is going to spread rather quickly. We can do, this Mycroft, just relax and follow my lead.”

Mycroft dropped his umbrella and topcoat in his office and they continued on to the library. Dinner had been laid out on the table and Mycroft held out a chair for Molly and then took a seat himself. His face was a study but at least it wasn’t as tense as it had been this morning. He cleared his throat and began to speak.

“I received your e-mail and the photos. On further reflection, you were right and I was unprepared for the reality and ramifications of our agreement. I am willing to practice in order for our performance to be more convincing. Please be patient with me, I am old and set in my ways and don’t brook change very well.”

Molly laughed at his old school formality. “That’s alright, Mycroft, it will be hard for us both at first but remember, it’s theatre.  Theatre can be a lot of fun if you trust your fellow actors. Fun? You do remember fun don’t you?”

She reached across the table and lightly squeezed his hand. “I’m just teasing, Mycroft. How about we try to be friends? I trust you and I hope you grow to trust me. Try to enjoy my company and by next Friday when we face the magistrate it will be just fine.”

“If you say so. I promise I will not bolt on you again and I apologize for my behavior. Now, let’s eat and have a drink.  It’s been a hellish day.”

“Sounds good to me but I will skip the drink and stick to water. Baby on board and all that.”

They had a pleasant dinner and Molly sipped ginger ale as Mycroft enjoyed his scotch and they talked of inconsequential things.  Molly asked him if she might take Mrs. Carlton and go shopping for maternity clothes the next day and he thanked her for letting him know her plans.

“Please be careful. I will order you a car but be on your guard. Mrs. Carlton is much more than she seems and is quite capable in a pinch but you cannot be too cautious.” He reached for his wallet and pulled out a matte black credit card. “Please use this card when shopping.” He handed the card to her.

She looked at the name on the card and paled slightly. Molly E. Holmes… Now that would take some getting used to. Talk about a reality check. Her hand strayed to her swelling abdomen.

“This card cannot be tracked and its information cannot be hacked. It is yours to keep and though we are not yet married, I assure you that the card will work just fine.” Mycroft paused, noticing her silence and her pale face. His eyebrows rose as he studied her.

“Oh….You do wish to change your name do you not? I did not mean to be presumptuous but I thought you and the child should have the same last name. It can be changed if you…”

She cut him off with a smile. “No, its fine, just fine, I had intended to change my name it’s just that the reality of it on a credit card is rather overwhelming.  Pay back for this morning, Mr. Holmes? If so, touché’.” Molly leaned back in her chair and quickly changed the subject.

“So, what exactly do you do during the evening when you are not running the government? If we are to be friends, perhaps we should spend some more time together while you are at home. At least until after next Friday.”

Mycroft’s face was blank. “I usually work in my office until 11 or so and then I go to bed and read a bit. If I am heartily sick of work, I usually read in the library and nurse a scotch until bed.”

“OK, sounds fairly normal but the work part sounds appalling. No telly? No music?”

“No, I’m afraid not. I sometimes listen to BBC news or classical music but I am fairly noise sensitive and prefer silence or quiet music to the cacophony of the television. I do enjoy films as long as they are not too insipid.”

“Alright, well I enjoy music, have a moderate love for crap telly and adore insipid and overly sentimental films. However, I also love to read. So, what’s it to be tonight, Mr. Holmes?”

“Reading and scotch. I need to shake off my day.” He rose with his now diluted scotch, took off his jacket, picked up his book from a side table and settled on the couch in front of the fire. He kicked off his shoes and put his feet up on the coffee table. “How’s this?” he asked, smiling.

“Great, just great.”  Socks with clocks…did he use old school garters too? She was not going there, at least not tonight.

Let me get my book and I will join you.” Molly fetched her book out of her room and joined him on the couch. She sat next to him, their thighs touching. He looked at her sideways and all she said was “Practice…” He nodded and went back to his book as she cuddled into him and cracked her own book open.

******

The fire had burnt low and Mycroft looked up from his book. Past eleven and time to turn in. Molly had set down her book earlier and had lain down with her head in his lap. “Practice…” she murmured before falling deeply asleep. He looked down at her and wondered at the delicate curve of her cheek and her tiny, beautifully formed ear. He reached out to tuck a stray hair behind said ear and she mumbled lightly in her sleep. He removed himself gently from under her head. Sound asleep.

He stood and stretched. He was loathe to wake her but the library was no place to spend the night. He carefully picked her up. She was surprisingly heavy for such a little thing and her face settled into his chest as he carried her out the door into the hall. Mrs. Carlton came out of a side door and her eyebrows rose in surprise. Mycroft nodded at her and indicated she should follow him. They went silently up the stairs and Mrs. Carlton opened Molly’s bedroom door. Mrs. Carlton peeled back the light coverlet and Mycroft placed Molly on the bed and drew the covers up over her. She sighed and mumbled “Good night, Mycroft…” He bent and gently kissed her forehead and when he stood up Mrs. Carlton was staring at him. He shrugged and gestured her out the door. He followed her and gently shut the door behind him.

“She’s a fine girl, Mr. Mycroft.  I know you two are thinking you are only playing a game but its dangerous game. Have a care with her heart, it’s an open book and she is longing for someone to pick it up and cherish it. She will need you more than ever in the coming days and months and so have a care.” Mrs. Carlton looked at him seriously and then went down the hall to her own room.

Have a care indeed. Who was going to look out for his heart? He turned and walked down the hall to his solitary bed.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Molly woke excited at the prospect of a shop.  She took her time dressing and getting ready and planned carefully so she would face a minimum of agony in dressing rooms.  Shopping was fun but trying on clothes not so much. Slip-on shoes, stretchy pants and a pullover shirt.  She could be down to her smalls in no time at all.

Mycroft had been off early but had sent her a text. _Darling, Have a lovely day out and enjoy your shopping. See you tonight. Love you – MH._ Her heart skipped a beat when she read those last words. She hoped that in the months to come that they could become friends.He was really trying now and that was good. She was now fairly certain that they could convince most people. She looked out the window and felt a sudden pang of melancholy. She wished it wasn’t theatre. She wished a man as fine as Mycroft Holmes would really love her someday.

******

Shopping had been fun and Mrs. Carlton had been a wonderful companion.  There were definite benefits to having a big, black car waiting at the ready to take you places almost effortlessly.  She knew there was a security detail with them but they were in plain clothes and quite inconspicuous. Her challenge was to stop trying to pick them out of the crowd and just trust that they were there.  Oh well, another thing to get used to in her new reality.

They went to a higher end shopping area than she was used to and visited several maternity shops.  Mrs. Carlton had a great eye and a tart tongue and she not so subtly guided Molly away from shocking pink and lime green towards a more sophisticated but becoming color palate. She also took the time to talk to Molly about color, line and shape; teaching her things about clothing that her mum never had the patience for. Molly was grateful for the time and attention and Mrs. Carlton really seemed to be enjoying herself.

“Oh, I dearly love to shop but I seldom get to indulge. My daughter lives in the U.S. so only see her once or twice a year. We used to love shopping together when she was younger and I miss that. You remind me of her with your joyful spirit, don’t ever lose that, my dear, as you will find it invaluable in life. Does my heart no end of good to spend time with you, it does.  Helps me miss her less.” Mrs. Carlton patted her shoulder and they continued shopping.

By mid-afternoon tea, Molly felt she had enough clothing to get her through the next six months. The tops were a bit voluminous on her small frame now but that would be changing very soon. She and Mrs. Carlton were both tired but not overly so.  If shopping for clothes was this exhausting, what would shopping for baby things be like? Perhaps it was for the best that she had taken a brief leave of absence from work. Maybe she would get Mycroft to go shopping with her for the crib and such. That should be amusing if nothing else.

The shop keepers had first ignored her, noting her cheap clothing and her apparent lack of sophistication. Molly resented it but knew she had to up her game to be the sham wife of one Mycroft Holmes. However, all it took in the first shop was a flash of the black credit card to wipe their looks of superiority and disdain from their faces. She looked at it curiously after the second shop and Mrs. Carlton whispered in her ear “Very exclusive and no limit. Not many people in the UK qualify for such a card.” Molly laughed but cringed inwardly. Just how much power and money did Mycroft have?

She and Mrs. Carlton sat quietly after their tea watching the flow of people from the shops and thinking their own thoughts. They still had hours before they returned to the residence and had gotten through most of the things on the list. Molly stretched out her legs under the table and flexed them.  She had started to get mild leg cramps that her doctor had told her were normal.  Nothing for it but they were irritating.

Mrs. Carlton looked like she had something on her mind most of the morning but Molly did not inquire and the conversation had stuck to clothes and plans for baby things. She did not look overly stressed so Molly had simply let it go.  If Mrs. Carlton had something to say to her she would when the time was right.

“Molly, I need to talk to you.  I do not want to be forward or gossip about Mr. Mycroft but I have been with the family a long time and I care deeply about all of them. Is that all right?”

“Certainly, Mrs. Carlton” said Molly, looking at the older woman inviting her to continue.

“Mycroft was a wary and distant child. He loved his parents and Sherlock but perhaps took his perceived responsibility as the oldest too seriously. Mycroft was the responsible one while Sherlock was the free spirited terror. The boys were very close when they were young and Sherlock worshiped Mycroft and followed him everywhere. Mycroft grumbled but one could tell he deeply loved his little brother. Time went on, Mycroft went off to boarding school and the balance in the family shifted.  Without Mycroft to ground him, Sherlock became even more volatile and resentful of Mycroft’s absence.  They fought bitterly on Mycroft’s first visit home from school and things between them were never the same again.  Mycroft withdrew into a world of academic achievement and then progressively responsible government positions and Sherlock ran wild, got into drugs and became increasingly unmanageable. Their parents cared deeply and did what they could but it was always Mycroft that saved his little brother.  He bailed him out of jail, took him to re-hab, tried to get him to stay in Uni and even offered to set him up as an agent with MI6.”

Mrs. Carlton paused, looked off into empty air and continued. “Mycroft is the hero child though you would not think it by his overt behavior. He is a facilitator, a peace maker and a protector.  He has spent his whole life taking care of other people with little regard for himself. However, in spite of his cool manner, he cares deeply.  I know that the two of you are making a game out of out of this mock marriage but I can see that Mycroft’s regard for you in combination with his protectiveness is growing.  I know you are a fine and caring person, Miss Molly.  Please don’t hurt him. He has been hurt, taken for granted and expected to be the responsible one his whole life.  He is becoming attached to you. So, play your game but tread carefully.”

She continued. “I have a real soft spot for Mr. Mycroft. He spent many an hour alone in my kitchen, silent for the most part but looking for comfort.  He’s far too hard on himself and far too skilled at hiding his true emotions. He’s been very good to me over the years; helping me when my John passed, sending my girl to Uni and even gifting her with the down payment on a house for her graduation. He has been like the son I never had and though I know he can be difficult, I love him very much.” Mrs. Carlton took a handkerchief out of her purse and dabbed her eyes. “My heart does go out to him at times and he would be appalled if he knew I fretted so over him.

Molly looked at the older woman and felt her eyes fill as well.  She leaned over and gave Mrs. Carlton a brief hug.  “I promise to be kind to Mycroft and stay his friend no matter what, Mrs. Carlton. I too can see the vulnerability behind the armor.  I promise you that I will do everything in my power not to hurt him.”

So, that was the back-story; odd that she and Mycroft had so much in common after all. Both responsible children forced to grow up too soon with an innate sense of responsibility. She knew that he had a first class mind much like Sherlock’s only far more disciplined. She had also suspected the hidden depths of his emotions but now Mrs. Carlton had confirmed them. Molly was also becoming attached to him and she would have to be careful with her heart as well as his. 

Just then, Molly’s phone chimed. _Hello darling, Hope you are still having fun. I will be late tonight so don’t feel you have to wait up. Love you – MH._

Molly smiled happily down at the phone and did not see concern in Mrs. Carlton’s face.  She glanced up and in an instant the expression was gone.

Mrs. Carlton, recovering, laughed between her tears. “Enough of that now. Drink up your tea and let’s be off. Someone is getting married next week and needs an appropriate dress and a haircut.  I took the liberty of making you an appointment at my favorite hairdresser. We have shopped all day for practical things; time to have a little pampering and buy you something special.”

Molly looked at her in surprise. Oh dear, Mrs. Carlton was right. She had been so busy thinking about maternity things that she had totally forgotten about next Friday.  She had wanted to visit a stylist but events had overtaken her and she had forgotten.  A dress to get married in and freshly styled hair… now that was a grand way to end an exhausting and enlightening day. 


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Mycroft sat at his desk and read the report on the man who had attempted to kidnap Molly. He had been a Caucasian male in his mid-forties in the peak of health. Good teeth, no surgeries, no scars and no tattoos. His clothing had been purchased at a decent, but not exclusive, department store.  Off the rack and the perfect cut and color to blend into the grey and navy blue world of the British government. His shoes were also ordinary and probably purchased from the same store. No ID except for the excellently forged government ID in the name of William Scott. Fingerprint and DNA searches had so far turned up nothing. It was if he had been conjured out of nowhere. Frustrated, Mycroft keyed his phone. This situation was untenable.

“Anthea, are you in the building?”

“Yes sir, on my way upstairs now. Am I wanted?” Her voice was cool. Interesting, was the lack of progress in this investigation getting to her too?

Mycroft rose and began to pace.  He had a lot on his mind between a minor scandal involving an underage daughter of a Swedish diplomat and an old goat in parliament, a dead end on the true identity of William Scott, trying to trace Sherlock and getting married in a week. It didn’t matter that it was a sham wedding, it was still a wedding and all of the friends and relatives had to be handled.  Molly would take care of Sherlock’s friends and he doubted if any of them would show up besides Mrs. Hudson. He was also worried about Molly’s mother. There was a story there yet to be told and he knew Molly was deeply worried about their upcoming meeting. He was concerned about telling his parents as well but their relationship was not as fraught as Molly’s with her mum. Whatever it was it could be overcome but it would take time and energy. This was definitely going to be the week from hell. Whose idea had this been anyway? Too many distractions, he had to concentrate.

There was a brisk knock at the door and Anthea entered, still glancing at her mobile as she came through the door. She looked tired and aggravated as she sat in a side chair and crossed her legs. 

“You know, the timing on this wedding of yours could not be worse. You have already been gone a great deal and now you plan on going down to Surrey for a week after the ceremony? Aren’t you laying it on a little thick? There have been no new threats and once the ceremony is over the chance of anyone getting to Sherlock’s little doxie is minimal. What are you playing at? I do not understand at all. We need you here. I need you here.” She lifted her chin and smoothed her already perfect hair. 

Mycroft stopped pacing and looked at her in surprise. He had briefed her on the arrangements last week and she had provided excellent input on the plan.  What on earth had happened between then and now? He found her disdain of Miss Hooper disturbing. It was almost as if…No, this was Anthea, his right arm. Could she possibly be jealous of Miss Hooper?

Mycroft’s eyes narrowed and voice became very quiet. “This is not like you at all Anthea, if I didn’t know better it would appear that you resent Miss Hooper. Tell me that I am wrong?”

Anthea bristled but said nothing. Interesting indeed. Mycroft continued.

“You know the plan; you helped develop the plan and agreed it was the best course of action for all involved. Yes, this is a personal family matter but the threat to Miss Hooper is real and I must go through with it to keep her and the child safe. I cannot devote my entire energy to work anymore as I will have responsibilities elsewhere. I have already started to implement changes that will take me out of the game for the foreseeable future. You will be taking over my position effective as of Friday at 3:00 PM. I will remain available on a consultation basis but that is all and I am unsure as to when I might return to my full duties.”

Anthea looked pleased regarding her new position but was still irritated at him. “You really care about her don’t you?  You care enough that you are giving up everything you’ve worked for all these years.”

“No, Anthea, I am giving up the public face of power and turning over the operation of this division to you. You have been at my side for over ten years and know this division almost better than me.” He paused and stood by the window looking down at the London traffic. “I have decided that it’s time for me to have a life as well as a job. You are correct that I care for Molly Hooper. She is carrying my brother’s child; my niece or nephew. I must protect them as long as Sherlock cannot. I am simply making a different choice, Anthea, and that is not necessarily a bad thing. I have led this division for too long and it’s time for the next generation with new ideas and fresh input to take over. Your promotion has been approved through all levels and it is now simply a matter of your acceptance.” Mycroft walked up to her, pulled her to her feet and led her to the chair behind his desk. “Sit, Anthea, and let’s talk about your future.”

She stood at his side and looked into his face and then at the chair. Her eyes came up and met his. He nodded and she slowly sat.  He turned and sat as well, facing her from the other side of the desk. “You see, that wasn’t that bad. I think you have a bright and all-consuming future ahead of you, my friend. What do you say we break out the single malt and make a toast to our new lives?” He smiled a wry smile and continued. “However, do not let my faith in you make you forget that you are still my PA for the next three days and six hours. You are my witness on Friday and in spite of how you may feel about my personal choices, I am counting on you to be there, both as my former PA and my friend.”

Anthea’s face softened slightly but she still seemed skeptical. “I know you, Mycroft, and this is not a course of action I would have predicted. I had anticipated that you would secure the Hooper situation and leave the woman and the child in the care of Mrs. Carlton and return to work. Are you sure you know what you are doing?”

Mycroft looked steadily at her and laughed dryly. “No, I am not sure of what I am doing and it is both stressful and liberating. I am well aware of your perception of me. I had thought so as well until these past weeks. It is an opinion echoed by everyone right up through the PM. It was the Queen herself who encouraged me to take another path and look towards family before it was too late. She spoke of balance and duty towards one’s self as well as duty to one’s country. No fear, I am sure I will be in your hair far more than you will want me to be in the future. I do not intend to let this William Scott debacle go.”

“Allow me…” Mycroft rose and splashed some of his best single malt into two glasses. He returned to his former desk, handed her a glass and lifted his. “A toast to the future of the British government as personified in you and to my impending marriage and semi-retirement. I leave you my office, my scotch and several small, but knotty problems to clean up.  However, I am taking my umbrella.”


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Friday, the day Molly was set to meet with her mother. Mycroft was concerned for her but had worries of his own as he was going to call his parents that afternoon. The announcement was going to be in the Times tomorrow and he could put it off no longer. His mother would be shocked and suspicious of his precipitous behavior.  However, her common sense would prevail when informed of the pregnancy. She might even be slightly relieved to think that he had finally done something without thinking about it for six months first.  Probably not, she would chastise him for getting a girl with child and lecture him on his responsibility. Only then might she allow herself to be pleased. Adult relationships with parents were so odd. He squared his shoulders and entered the library. Nothing for it. He hoped he did not have to face two sets of bristling parents next Friday. It couldn’t be much worse than bristling members of parliament or an irate PM.

Molly was already up and facing away from him reading a book him as he entered the room. Hearing him, she turned and looked at him with a soft smile on her face. Mycroft paused briefly to really look at her – she looked, well… beautiful. Her hair had been cut into a flattering style that was still long but framed her face to perfection. Her clothing was subdued but the colors were so perfect for her skin tone that they didn’t look subdued at all. He had not thought of her as totally unattractive. Ordinary and somewhat plain, yes, but not unattractive. However, he had had no idea that such small changes could make such a difference. The transformation was subtle but extraordinary.

“Good morning. You look beautiful today.” he said, kissing the top of her head and taking a seat across from her. Color rose in her face and she dipped her head obviously embarrassed by his words.

“It’s alright, Mycroft.  I know we are practicing but it’s just you and I right now. You don’t have to pretend.” He looked perfect again this morning; navy chalked striped suit and dark red tie. Powerful and sleek in his understated way.  She looked sad and did not meet his eyes.

He looked at her and his eyes narrowed slightly. Deep insecurity about her looks and inability to accept positive compliments without brushing them off.  Domineering, judging and withholding single mother or something else? 

He looked at her seriously as he fixed his tea. “I am not, as you so plainly put it, pretending. I am not by nature the most pleasant or subtle of men.  Nor do I give false compliments unless compelled to do so by my work.  I am an accomplished liar, yes, but I am not lying to you.  Now, please accept the compliment as it is genuine.  You do look beautiful this morning.” He paused and smiled at her. “Now, enough of this silliness, it’s time to go over our story for the parents and other interested parties.”

Molly blushed again and murmured a quiet thank you. No one had ever told her she was beautiful but her Da. She knew she looked better and she too had been surprised when she looked in the mirror this morning.  It seemed like a mousy little girl had left the residence yesterday and a more polished grown woman had returned.

She looked at Mycroft as he sat across from her, sipping his tea, glancing at his morning crossword and pausing now and then to quiz her on story details.  They had worked on a script together and had projected many possible responses and questions. Would it be enough? They would find out today.

While he was so distracted, she took some time to look at him. Really look, not just cursorily glance. Mycroft was not a handsome man or at least not flashily handsome like his brother. His nose was too long, his dark red hair was thinning and he looked too stern most of the time. His mannerisms were precise and almost dainty. Molly had had ample time to observe him and though he looked nothing like Sherlock, he had his own unique style. She had once thought him odd looking but as she got to know him better she had come to appreciate his quiet elegance, the set of his head on his long neck and his beautiful hands. His eyes, stormy grey blue, were also understated, and one only really noticed them when his mask fell and he smiled genuinely. She wondered briefly if he had any real clothes that hadn’t been tailored on Saville row. Note to self: See if she could get him to wear something less formal when at home. She smiled to herself, that project would be interesting as he seemed to have been born in a three-piece suit.

 Mycroft glanced up from his crossword and his review cut off mid-stream. She was grinning at him though goodness knew why.  “Do you find my review to be amusing, Miss Hooper?  Are you so confident in the details that you feel my efforts to be redundant?” He sat straighter in his chair and looked down his nose at her.

“Oh Mycroft, stop being so sensitive.  I have been listening this whole time and have heard every word. I was just wool gathering and thinking how I have never seen you wear real clothes.”

Mycroft looked at her as if she were mad and cocked his head as if to ask if she were joking. “What on earth do you mean?  These are real clothes.”

Molly started laughing and he drew himself even more upright as his affront grew. She needed to diffuse this and diffuse it now. “I mean jeans or sweats or corduroys. Open collar?  Relaxed? Shoes that cost less than a small car? I am just curious that’s all since I have never seen you dress down.  Maybe I should take you shopping.” She grinned even wider and took his hand. Without thinking she dipped her head raised his hand to her lips, turned it over and kissed his palm.

Mycroft went very still. His perception narrowed to the feel of her lips on his hand. He felt a buzz of latent energy and a flash of sensuality and in his head he saw her kiss each finger, extend her tongue…

He shook his head and his world snapped back to normalcy. Molly, her hand still holding his, was staring at him. His eyes were dark, his face slightly flushed and he unconsciously licked his lips. This would not do.

His face back under control, he gently removed his hand from hers and stood. “Shopping with you would indeed be an interesting experiment, we should make plans. Best of luck with your mum today.  I shall endeavor to send an appropriately charming text to you as we had discussed. Call me to let me know how it went” He bent and kissed the top of her head, turned and was out the door.

Oh crap, thought Molly as the tingle in her lower belly slowly subsided and she remembered to breathe. She stared after him for a long moment. That had been hot. That had been very hot and not good at all.

******

Molly had arranged to meet her mum at one of their favorite cafes.  She was nervous but her new clothes and new her hair helped. She wanted to look pretty and confident and sure so her mum would have limited room for negativity.  She was still worried though Mycroft had calmed her down somewhat over breakfast.  As well as winding her up, she thought as the car pulled up to the café and the driver came around to open her door and help her out. What had all that been about?  She had almost started to nibble on his hand to tease him, just like they were really engaged; an action probably cruel and unthinking on her part. He was a man after all and she should be more careful. Her hormones must be running wild. She was sure of only one thing; the next six months would be interesting indeed.

Molly had tried to arrive early but the traffic had been heavy and her mum was sitting near the window waiting for her when the car pulled up.  Crap, she should have had them drop her off a block away. Her driver came around the passenger side to open her door and hand her out. Her mum’s eyes were wide and she looked concerned. Molly flashed a quick smile at her, gave the driver instructions and entered the café.

“Sorry I’m late, the traffic was horrid.” She kissed her mum and quickly sat down. “Have you ordered?”

Her mum was silent as she assessed her daughter. New clothes, new hair, a bit of weight and a private car. She looked lovely and happy too which had been a rare event since the death of that detective chap with the funny name. Something was definitely going on with Molly and she didn’t know if she liked it.

A waiter came up and they quickly ordered. Molly looked sideways at her mum as if gauging the weather. “Mum, I know that you know that something is up. My life has changed and I am hoping you will find it in your heart to approve. I found out about four months ago I was expecting a baby.” Her mum’s eyebrows went up. “I had been seeing someone but was keeping it quiet as he has a minor, but important role, in the British government. I should have told you but I wasn’t sure it would last. Also, it seemed too soon after Sherlock’s death and I wanted to make sure I knew my feelings. Anyway, last week we decided to get married and the announcement will be in the Times tomorrow.” She extended her hand to show off her ring.  “He’s wonderful but a very private person and we were wondering if you might like to come over for dinner next week so you can meet him before the wedding? We are planning to get married next Friday at the registrar’s office and I would very much like you to come.” Molly paused, studying her mum’s face. “I know all this is very sudden, but I need your support and acceptance of my decisions. Please say that you will come over to meet him and that you will be at our wedding.”

Silence fell at the table and the tea, still untouched was starting to cool. Helen Hooper stared at her daughter and was at a loss for words. How had this happened without her knowing a thing about it? Molly had always been transparent as glass but obviously had been lying to her for months. She felt an irrational fury rising, something was not right and she was going to get to the bottom of it.

“Well! And why didn’t you think I deserved to know about this earlier? I am going to be a grandmother and you didn’t tell me? You haven’t even mentioned his name, do I know him? Who are his parents?” Her mum was looking at her through narrowed eyes and Molly knew she was in for it.

“His name is Mycroft Holmes and his parents are from Surrey though I am not sure of the town.” Molly brought the photo of her and Mycroft up on her mobile and handed it across the table to her mum.  “No, you would have no reason to know him. I met him through work as he was involved with one of my cases.” Not exactly a lie, thought Molly.

Her mum made a face. “Hmmmm, not very attractive.  Odd name too, Mycroft? What was his mother thinking?” A light seemed to dawn on Helen Hooper’s face. ”Wait a minute, is he related to that dead detective chap you were so mad about before he jumped off a roof? Sherlock Holmes? Another terrible name…”

Molly sighed. “Yes, mum, Mycroft is Sherlock’s older brother.”

Helen Hooper was just getting started. “Is he as crazy as his brother? If so, in spite of your unfortunate condition, perhaps you should think again before marrying into this family. It is bad enough he knocked you up but now you will be stuck with a baby, a crazy husband and all your work and dedication to your career will be wasted. I am ashamed of you, Molly Hooper. I raised you to be more responsible.”

Molly felt a wave of anxiety and she blinked back tears. “Stop it, mum. I have been responsible my whole life and yes, I got pregnant. I was spontaneous and irresponsible and impetuous and I am giving you the grandchild you always wanted. With Mycroft’s support I can handle both the child and my career. I know that this is a shock and I should have told you earlier but I know what I want and I am having this baby and marrying Mycroft Holmes. You can be a part of our lives, come over later this week and come to the wedding or not.  It’s your choice.”

Molly paused, her voice starting to hitch. “Please mum, give this a chance. I really need you to be there for me. Please?”

Hellen Hooper crossed her arms and blew out a breath in exasperation. She was just about to speak again when Molly’s mobile chimed.

_Hello Darling, I hope all is going well with your mum. I have been thinking of you and how lovely you looked this morning. Love you-_

_MH_

Mycroft’s message pushed her over the edge and she began to cry in earnest. She tapped a quick message back into her mobile.

_Not now._

Her phone chimed again.

_What’s wrong?_

She responded watching her mother’s face getting redder and redder and tears swam in her eyes.

Molly put down her mobile. “Mum, please don’t do this to me…”

The phone began to ring… Yakeddy Sax, good Christ she hadn’t changed his ring tone.

Molly picked it up and tried to muffle her distress and failed. Tearfully, she said “It’s alright, darling. Mum was a bit surprised and I am just trying…

Mycroft’s voice was ice on the other end of the phone. “Please pass the phone to your mother, Miss Hooper, and tell her I wish to speak to her.”

His voice brooked no objection and she quickly passed the mobile to her mum. Helen Hooper listened carefully and her face first went red and then white. After about a minute she handed the phone mutely back to Molly, looking deflated and uncomfortable.

Mycroft’s voice was soft and careful on the phone. “Ask her again, Molly, the answer may be different this time. Dry your tears, darling, it will all be fine. You’ll see, I promise. Love you and I will see you tonight.”

Molly sniffed, wiped her tears and responded, “All right darling, I love you too. See you later.”

Molly looked at her mum across the table and her mum looked back. Both women were silent when the waiter came up. Helen Hooper spoke first. “Please bring us a fresh pot of tea; I’m afraid this one has gone cold.”  The waiter picked up the cold pot left them.

Helen Hooper sat up straighter in her chair and spoke stiffly. “I may have spoken out of turn, Molly. This man obviously loves you and is very protective. He set me straight in no uncertain terms and I believe I deserved it. I apologize for my criticism and I hope I can make it up to you. Let’s have some tea and both calm down a bit. I will come to dinner and I will be at the wedding.”

“Oh mum, thank you” Molly spontaneously leaped up and gave her mum a sideways hug once more breaking down into tears. Helen Hooper stiffened, fished in her purse for a clean handkerchief and gave it to Molly. She softened as she held her girl, gently at first and then more fiercely.

Her mum patted her back. “There, there, I don’t know why I act the way I do. I want to be a loving mother but I over react and I end up pushing you away. Now stop it, Molly Elizabeth Hooper, or I shall blubber too and I am too old to make a scene in public.”

Molly sat, dried her tears and though they were both uncomfortable at first, they had their tea and the plans for next week were agreed upon.  By the time Molly had summoned the car and dropped her mum at the train station, their rift had been mostly mended though they were still being careful with each other.

“Bye, mum, and thanks for relenting. I need you and your grandchild will need you too. There’s another Hooper on the way and though her name will be Holmes, she will be as much yours as ours.” She gave her mum a brief hug.

“How can you be sure it’s a girl? Has the doctor told you the sex?

“No, mum, it’s just a feeling I have. Travel safe and I will call you in a day so. I love you.”

“I love you too, muffin.” Her mum hugged her back, got out of the car and walked into the train station. It wasn’t until she was out of site that Molly realized that her mum had called her by her childhood pet name. Maybe things were going to be all right after all.

******

Neither of the women noticed an anonymous black car parked on a side street partially hidden from their view. They were being watched by cold, calculating eyes assessing the cautious affection of both women with a deep, smoldering resentment. There was still time for revenge but it could wait for the perfect moment to inflict the ultimate pain. The thought brought a grim smile to the watcher’s face.  Patience was required for the final, deadly game.  Waiting was difficult but only waiting and watching would bring the deepest satisfaction. The watcher spoke to the driver and the long, black car pulled out into traffic and vanished.

******

It was late afternoon by the time Molly got home and surprisingly Mycroft was waiting for her. The light was golden, the shadows lengthening as they touched the edges of the portico. She flew from the car and was immediately in his arms, her face pressed into his shirtfront. “Thank you, thank you, thank you…What on earth did you say to her to get her to back down?”

Mycroft looked down at her and lifted her chin so that she was looking up at him. His face was serious.  “I simply told her that she had the best daughter in the world and that if she ever wanted to see her grandchild, ever, she would come to dinner and attend the wedding. I also might have mentioned a not-so-distant link to the royal family. I was stretching it a bit but my methods seem to have worked.” His expression lightening, he smiled down at her and shook his head. “Mothers are nothing compared to a belligerent PM.”

He put his arm around her shoulders and together in the waning light of the afternoon they laughed and went into the residence.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

It was her wedding day. Molly stared into the mirror deep in thought. She was dressed and ready to go. Cars were on their way to pick up her mum and best mate as well as Mycroft’s parents. There was going to be a reception afterwards at a nearby, small but exclusive hotel. She and Mycroft would get married, get through the reception and then travel down to his house in Surrey for a week. He had decided to take a leave of absence from work as well and though she worried he would not have enough to do without the daily political intrigue and terrorist plots, he reassured her that he was indeed ready for a break. He would remain on-call but would be on leave for the duration of Sherlock’s absence. All the arrangements were in place, security had been doubled and all that was left to do the deed. Molly felt an odd combination of terror and happiness. She was happy that she and her child would be secure for the foreseeable future and that the private Mycroft was nothing like the public Mycroft. However, she was terrified of the magnitude of what she was about to do. She wished Sherlock were here but Mycroft was correct, they could set things right once he returned. There had still been no word from him and Molly was worried; she hoped he was all right and she hoped that he would understand their choices when he returned. Mrs. Carlton had been correct and what she and Mycroft were about to do was not a game. She wished she could have a drink to steady her nerves.

******

The previous week had been a blur of phone calls, cards, gifts and family dinners. Once the announcement had hit the Times all hell had broken loose and her mobile had rung off the hook. She had personally called John Watson, Mrs. Hudson and Greg Lestrade to let them know and invite them to attend before the announcement came out.  John had been livid, still suffering from the loss of Sherlock, but she had talked him down by gently reminding him of their friendship and asking him to be the child’s godfather. He capitulated but would not be coming to the wedding. Molly asked Mr. Hudson to be her witness and she had been kind, if a bit puzzled, and said she would be there. Greg Lestrade had barked with laughter, asked her if she had gone mad and then congratulated on her impending motherhood. It was doubtful that he would show up either and he and John would probably end up at some pub getting drunk. The only people coming from Mycroft’s side were his parents and Anthea, who would act as his witness. Mrs. Carlton would attend the ceremony but would then collect Toby from the residence and depart directly for Surrey to open the house.

Mycroft’s call to his parents had gone better than expected. His mum had lectured him over the unplanned pregnancy and scolded him over the hasty wedding, but had been so thrilled over the prospect of a grandchild that she had ben easily won over. His parents had come up from Surrey a few days ago and were staying at the reception hotel. They had met them for dinner a few nights before and Molly had found them charming, kind and refreshingly normal. They had explained to her quite clearly that though Mrs. Holmes was a mathematician, they had no idea where their brilliant boys had come from. The talk had turned sad when they spoke of Sherlock but not wanting to spoil the day that conversation was poignant and mercifully brief. They seemed to like Molly and generously welcomed her into their family.

The next morning had probably brought the most surreal event of the week. Mycroft had left for his office and she had been upstairs in her office working on a conference paper. She had been productive during her leave of absence from work and had one paper almost complete and two others outlined. Mycroft had proved to be a harsh but effective proofreader and these papers were going to be some of her best work to date. There had been a knock on her door and Mrs. Carlton entered, looking more flustered than Molly had ever seen her. She was carrying a beautifully wrapped package and the way she was holding it made it look like a bomb.

Molly rose from her desk somewhat alarmed. “What’s wrong Mrs. Carlton?”

 Mrs. Carlton was mute and shaking her head put the package down and held the card out to Molly.  Puzzled Molly looked at the beautiful robin’s egg blue envelope emblazoned with the royal crest. 

“Oh, did someone send us a gift? How nice. Is it from a shop that the royals patronize?” I’ve seen their warrant on lots of things. I will wait for Mycroft to open the present but there’s no harm in opening the card.” She turned the card over and it was closed with wax stamped with yet another royal seal. “These shops certainly go all out.” She slipped her finger gently between the flap and the envelope and carefully opened it without disturbing the seal. She pulled out the heavy matching card, looked at the writing and quickly sat down.

“Oh my, this gift is from the the…? She sent us a wedding gift? Oh my god, is that her writing? Does this happen all the time?  Oh dear….” Molly’s face plainly showed her shock. She was holding a note hand written by the Queen of England congratulating her and Mycroft on their upcoming nuptials.

******

The dinner with her mum had gone well too in spite of their fraught last visit. It had ben awkward at first but Mycroft had pulled out all the stops, including sending an old school Rolls Royce to pick up her up. Needless to say, by the time everyone in Molly’s old neighborhood had seen Helen Hooper handed into such a car and spirited away, she was a minor local celebrity. Her mum had been nervous and seemed to shrink as she entered the opulence of the residence but Mycroft had poured on all of his well-honed, diplomatic charm, treated her with deference and, in spite of being “odd looking”, had won over her by the end of the evening.

After Mycroft said his goodbyes, he left Molly and her mum to walk alone together back to the portico where the car was waiting to take Mrs. Hooper home.

“Well, I had no idea the Holmes family was so well off, Molly.” She said glancing around the broad marble hall and at the stately vintage Rolls in the drive. “You’ve done well for yourself. Also, this Mycroft does not seem as flighty as that younger brother. He appears…” Helen Hooper paused and searched for the appropriate word, “solid.”

Molly laughed. Just being around Mycroft for any length of time made one feel more secure. “He is that mum and much more. I had no inkling about the family money though I knew that Mycroft had a good job. It was his mind, his steadiness and his good heart that attracted me to him after Sherlock’s death. I think he will make a good husband and father.” She paused inwardly after saying those words, surprised that although this entire situation was an elaborate sham, she sincerely believed in their truth. Mycroft would make a good husband and father, how unexpected.

 

******

Molly snapped back to the present. This morning, she and Mycroft had had breakfast as usual and he had left her with the briefest of embraces, his eyes serious as he looked down at her.

“No nerves. Mrs. Carlton will help you get ready and her presence is as soothing as a glass of warm milk before bed. I will see you at the registrar’s office at 3:00 PM. All will be well.” He looked closer at her pale face. “One last hurdle and the game will be complete. No faint hearts today. Remember, you are the fiercest and bravest pathologist in all of London. What’s a little marriage ceremony to one such as you?” He smiled reassuringly at her and was out the door.

She spent most of the day working on her papers and was surprised when she looked up and it was noon. Time for a bite to eat, a quick shower and then Mrs. Carlton would come up and help her with her hair.  The dress they had chosen was a soft sage green that brought out the auburn in her hair and made her eyes look like deep cognac. It was cleverly cut and unless someone knew she was pregnant they would never guess. They had an appointment for 3:00 PM at the registrar’s and had planned everything so that they would arrive no more than 10 minutes early. Cars had been dispatched to pick up her mum and friend, Mycroft’s parents and Mrs. Hudson.  Mycroft and Anthea would arrive together in yet another car.

She had seen her mother privately earlier in the week and though she had told Mycroft where she was going, she had not told him what she was doing with her mum. She hoped he would take her gesture in the correct context.  She was only trying to do her part in making this marriage appear to be as real as possible and she felt in her heart it was right.  She hoped he would concur.

She still had her doubts about the plan and there had been several times during the past weeks when she had almost decided to call it off.  She did trust Mycroft and had come to enjoy his company, however there was an undercurrent of tension between them and she was mature enough to recognize it as a growing attraction. How could she keep her distance while pretending to be Mycroft’s wife?  Amateur theatrics were all well and good but they both, along with the baby, would have to really live this thing in the coming months and perhaps years. They would all become attached and how would it be resolved when Sherlock came home?

Molly’s reverie was interrupted by a soft knock on the door.  Mrs. Carlton poked her head in and told her the car was waiting and it was time. She looked at her suitcases packed for Surrey, took one more glance at the pale stranger in the mirror, took a deep breath and joined Mrs. Carlton on the landing. The only thing to do was to get it done. Mycroft had her cold and he knew she would be nervous and having second thoughts this morning. Why was this so hard?  It felt irrevocable though logically she knew it wasn’t. She had read the papers she had signed very carefully and there were several legally binding and crystal clear escape clauses. She guessed that she had always believed that once she chose to marry that she would deeply love her husband and would stay married. This sham, unlikely as it was, had become her life. And what would happen when Sherlock returned? Could she keep up the ruse without losing her heart to Mycroft Holmes? What had once been an absurdity had become a distinct possibility. What would Jane do indeed? She would probably have run for the hills.

Molly smiled thinly at Mrs. Carlton as the car swept into the portico. And now the real play begins and the players would fully embrace their roles. She nervously fingered the gold ring in her pocket and was swept on to her fate.

 

******

Mycroft Holmes was uncharacteristically nervous as well as he and Anthea walked to the car. They had both indulged in a fortifying glass of scotch but the alcohol had done little to sooth his disquiet. Was he doing the right thing?  Had he really thought through all options before taking this path? What would Sherlock do upon his return when he became aware that Mycroft had married his pathologist and become a father to his child?  Could he be what he needed to be for Molly and the child and then simply step away without incalculable damage to all of them? Too late now, he would simply have to take what came and deal with the consequences later. 

Anthea grinned at him as the car approached their destination. “Cold feet, Mr. Holmes? It’s not too late to call this little travesty off.” Her grin widened as her comment was met with a dark scowl as he thought back to his actions this morning.

Mycroft stood solemnly in the lower floor of the residence, removed the gold band from his right hand and put it into the family vault. He had carefully re-read the engraved motto on the inside of the ring before placing it gently into a velvet bag.

_Semper et ubique Fidelis – Always and Everywhere Faithful_

His duty lay elsewhere now and though he would keep his hand in, the Queen had been right and it was time for him to move on. He then removed the remainder of the parure containing the diamond and emerald wedding band, matching necklace and earrings from the vault. He would pocket the ring to give to Molly this afternoon and present her with the rest of the set after they arrived in Surrey.  

With one last look, he put his past into the vault, closed the door and went up the stairs to meet his future.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Molly dashed up the stairs with Mrs. Carlton in tow. They were a bit late having underestimated the traffic. Her nerves were shredded and she was feeling slightly light headed. She had closed her eyes and tried to slow her breathing in the car but neither her actions nor Mrs. Carlton’s soothing presence had helped much.

They walked quickly down a corridor and around a corner and there they were, all assembled, chatting quietly and now staring straight at her.  Molly felt the blood drain from her face, her eyes grow wide and her steps falter. Please god; don’t let me faint, she thought to herself. As if on cue, the small crowd parted and Mycroft strode towards her, elegant and controlled in a charcoal grey suit of wool so fine it shimmered slightly in the afternoon light. Eyes focused on hers as if knowing she was about to panic, he stopped directly in front of her and reached out his hand to caress her cheek. Molly let out a breath that she had been unaware she had been holding, bowed her head and stepped into his private space, her head just inches from his chest.

His hands came up to cup her face and he bent close and whispered in her ear. “It’s all right, Molly, it’s only me. I know you are frightened and unsure but you know I would never hurt you. You can do this. We can do this. Now look at me and let’s show this crowd what they’ve all come to see.”

Her head came up to look into his face and he gave her a lazy, sensual smile. Time slowed to a crawl. One hand came down and stole around her waist and he pulled her to him. She felt his warmth through his suit jacket and breathed in his scent, spicy and familiar. Eyes locked on hers he bent and their lips met, chastely at first and then the kiss deepened. She forgot her nerves, forgot the waiting guests and her arms came up to embrace him. She felt the blood rush back into her body and felt a wave of desire so strong it made her sway slightly. She heard his sharp intake of breath and felt his body respond to hers.  She heard a quiet murmuring from the group and broke the kiss, still looking up into Mycroft’s face. He wasn’t smiling and his face was serious, looking at her like he had never seen her before. She was staring at him as well and it wasn’t until a discreet cough from someone in the corridor that the moment was broken.  He smiled gently at her and briefly nodded. Not taking her eyes from his, she took a step back and nodded as well. Hands locked and Molly now blushing furiously and shooting shy glances at Mycroft, they turned and faced the small crowd.

Time resumed its normal pace. Her mum was dabbing at her eyes with her handkerchief while her friend patted her on the shoulder. Mr. and Mrs. Holmes stood holding hands and looking at them like they had just witnessed a miracle. Mrs. Hudson gave them a sunny smile and Anthea stood frozen in place, trying but failing to conceal her conflicting emotions.  Mrs. Carlton stood to the side also dabbing at her eyes, smiling but not quite able to conceal her concern.

“Shall we, Miss Hooper?” Mycroft bowed slightly and looked down into her now smiling face. “Yes, Mr. Holmes, I think we shall.” Still holding hands they walked forward to greet their guests.

 

******

Molly and Mycroft were bidding the last departing guests farewell as it was early evening and the reception was breaking up. Molly was exhausted but it appeared that they had pulled off the show and convinced all the concerned parties that they had indeed married in earnest. Now that she could relax she just wanted to put her feet up and sleep for 10 hours. Mycroft smoothly handled the last farewells, briefly hugging both of his parents, and though he appeared tireless to the others, she could detect the quiet exhaustion in him as well. There was a car outside waiting to take them south to Surrey and a week away from London at the Holmes estate.

Molly had a sweet moment with her mum as just before she and her neighbor got into the car that would take them home, she had pressed a small box into Molly’s hand.  When Molly opened it she found a beautiful broach made up of semi-precious stones in the shape of a bouquet of spring flowers. She looked up into her mum’s face questioningly.

“Gavin gave that broach to me on our wedding day and it’s been put away for a long time.  I just thought of it the other day and I wanted you to have it. Something old and all that” Helen Hooper reached for her handkerchief and dabbed her eyes.  “I love you, Molly, and I am very happy for you.  Your Mycroft seems to be a good man and certainly loves you.  I can tell, you know.”

Molly hugged her mum and felt tears coming on again.  If only they had had more moments like this one when she was growing up. “I love you too mum. I will cherish the broach. Thank you for coming and I will call you next week.” She kissed her mum, they laughed through their tears and Molly stood watching as the vintage Rolls pulled out into traffic. Mycroft joined her and put his arm around her shoulders. She looked up at him thoughtfully. Maybe her mum was right and perhaps Mycroft was indeed coming to love her a little. 

Soon after her mum’s departure, Molly sat waiting in the hotel lobby for Mycroft to come back in to get her. A call had come in, he had asked her to wait and he and Anthea were having what looked like a fairly heated discussion out on the sidewalk in front of the hotel.  Their faces were tense and there was a bit of arm waving going on. Molly was glad to be sitting down with her feet up and not outside with them. Picking up on their stress just by watching, she turned away from the window and thought back to this afternoon.

After their brief show in the corridor, the paperwork and ceremony went off without a hitch. It had been very emotional for her and much more real than she had thought it would be. The brief moment beforehand as Mycroft kissed her that to Molly seemed to last an eternity had actually taken only a few seconds according to Mrs. Carlton. She was grateful that although they had made a spectacle of themselves, that it was a brief and convincing spectacle. The overwhelming flood of feelings had shocked her and they would have to talk before things got out of hand. However, talking was not really what she wanted to do at this point. What she needed was a quick cold shower. God help her, she was falling for Mycroft Holmes.  Leaning her head back and briefly closing her eyes she replayed the rest of the afternoon in her head.

 

******

Mycroft and Molly, still holding hands approached the group and there was series of hugs and good wishes. Mycroft smoothly herded them all into the small room with a viewing gallery and they chatted softly while the couple produced just enough ID to an official to confirm their identities. Mycroft had finessed the rest of the paperwork earlier and so this check was rather perfunctory. Molly had picked a generic and secular set of vows on-line but had not shared them with Mycroft. He had probably done his own review but left it to her to make the final choice.

At 3:00 PM sharp, the registrar official, a short, elfin man with a kind smile entered the room and segregated Molly and Mycroft from their guests. Gesturing for the group to be seated, he waited a moment and started the ceremony. Molly breathed deeply and willed herself to be calm.

“Good afternoon ladies and gentlemen and welcome. Just to be sure, you are all here for the marriage of Molly Hooper and Mycroft Holmes?”  His eyebrows went up in an interrogative.

There was a quiet murmur of assent from the gallery and the official went on.

“This place in which we are now met has been duly sanctioned according to law for the celebration of marriage. This ceremony will unite Molly and Mycroft in marriage. We are here to celebrate their union and to honour their commitment to each other. Today this couple will proclaim their love for one another. We celebrate with them and for them.”

Clearing his throat and looking around the room “If any person present knows of any lawful impediment to this marriage they should declare it now.”

There was a brief pause and silence reigned. Molly let out a quick breath of relief and Mycroft smiled encouragingly at her.

“The purpose of marriage is that you love, care for and support each other through both the joys and sorrows of life. Today you will exchange vows of marriage which will unite you as husband and wife. These vows are a promise of a lifelong commitment giving your families and friends the opportunity to meet together in celebration of your happiness, imparting their own message of love and support.”

“Before you are both joined together in marriage it is my duty to remind you of the solemn and binding character of the vows you are about to make. Marriage in this country is the union of two people voluntarily entered into for life to the exclusion of all others.”

Molly quivered inside at these words but lifted her chin and braved out her nerves. She glanced at Mycroft and he met her eyes calmly and with a surety that she certainly didn’t feel.

“I am now going to ask you each in turn to declare that you know of no legal reason why you may not be joined together in marriage.”

The small man turned to Molly.

“I do solemnly declare that I know not of any lawful impediment why I, Molly Hooper, may not be joined in marriage to Mycroft Holmes.” Molly’s voice shook slightly but her words were clear.

The man nodded to Mycroft and he calmly responded in kind. “I do solemnly declare that I know not of any lawful impediment why I, Mycroft Holmes, may not be joined in marriage to Molly Hooper.”

The small man smiled at them both and continued.

“I ask you now;  Mycroft do you take Molly to be your lawful wedded wife, to be loving, faithful and loyal to her for the rest of your life together?”

“I will.”Mycroft’s voice was soft but sure.

“Molly do you take Mycroft to be your lawful wedded husband, to be loving, faithful and loyal to him for the rest of your life together?”

“I will” Molly’s voice still trembled slightly but she was still in control. Just a few more minutes and it would be done.

Molly and Mycroft glanced at each other and then back at the small man.

“Now we move on to the formal vows of marriage. If your guests would please stand and Molly and Mycroft, please face each other. Mycroft…”

“I call upon these persons here present to witness that I, Mycroft Holmes, take you, Molly Hooper, to be my lawful wedded wife – to love and to cherish from this day forward. “

“Molly…”

“I call upon these persons here present to witness that I, Molly Hooper, take you Mycroft Holmes to be my lawful wedded husband – to love and to cherish from this day forward ** _._** ” Molly’s eyes started to swim as she looked into Mycroft’s face. He paused and reaching into his pocket withdrew a white handkerchief and handed it to her. There was soft laughter from the gallery and Molly blushed again. She quickly stowed it in a hidden pocket in her dress as she knew she would need it later.

The official paused and asked quietly “Are there rings?”

Both Molly and Mycroft nodded in unison and Mycroft threw a small puzzled look at Molly. Molly smiled shyly back at him and nodded again.

“The exchanging of rings is the traditional way of sealing the contract that you have just made. It is an unbroken circle, symbolizing unending and everlasting love and is the outward sign of the lifelong promise that you have just made to each other”

Mycroft withdrew the diamond and emerald band from his pocket and slipped it onto Molly’s finger all the while looking into her eyes.

 “I Mycroft Holmes give you this ring as a symbol of our love. All that I am I give to you, all that I have I share with you. I promise to love you, to be faithful and loyal in good times and bad. May this ring remind you always of the words we have spoken today.”

Molly took the ring out of her pocket, leaned forward quickly and whispered into Mycroft’s ear. “This ring belonged to my Da. I want you to have it.” She looked up at him and blinked back tears. Several emotions played across his face as he looked back at her.

Molly reached out for Mycroft’s hand and he squeezed it tenderly. Molly spoke and though her voice still trembled and tears threatened to fall, her voice was clear

“I give you this ring as a symbol of our love. All that I am I give to you, all that I have I share with you. I promise to love you, to be faithful and loyal in good times and bad. May this ring remind you always of the words we have spoken today.” A single tear fell from her eye as she slipped the wide gold band onto his finger.

The small man joined their hands and looked out into the gallery.

“Today is a new beginning. May you have many happy years together and in those years may all your hopes and dreams be fulfilled. Above all, may you always believe in each other and may the warmth of your love enrich not only your lives but the lives of all those around you.”

He looked at the newly wedded couple and smiled.

“It now gives me great pleasure to tell you both that you are now legally Husband and Wife. Congratulations.”

Mycroft leaned down and gave Molly a brief kiss. The gallery erupted in polite applause and the newly wedded couple, holding hands as Molly dabbed at her tears, went forward to greet their friends and family. There were a few more papers to sign but in the eyes of the world, their families and the UK they were well and truly married. The wedding was over but their adventure was only beginning.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

Molly started awake. She must have nodded off briefly while waiting for Mycroft to finish his discussion with Anthea. The shadows were growing long outside and just as she sat up to look around for him, Mycroft came through the main doors.

“Sorry darling, the phone call was important and I thought Anthea would never stop talking. The car is waiting, Mrs. Holmes, it’s time to go to the country for a well-deserved hiatus from London. You must be exhausted but you did well today, we did well today, and I am so proud of you. My brave pathologist indeed.” He smiled and reaching for her hand he pulled her to her feet and tucked his arm around her. “Come, wife, we must be away.”

Together they went out the door and walked towards the car. Just as their driver opened the door and Mycroft started to hand Molly in, a familiar voice that sounded a bit slurred rang out.

“Well, well, it’s true then, little Molly Hopper has married sodding Mycroft Holmes.” John Watson, unshaven and looking like he hadn’t slept in days, stood on the sidewalk and glared at them.

“I couldn’t believe it so I had to see it for myself. Had a few drinks first though…” John looked lost and shook his head. “What would poor Sherlock say about you knocking up and marrying his pathologist, Mycroft? You knew she was his pathologist, didn’t you? I think he would swear a blue streak and then kick your sorry ass, that’s what I think. He’s dead though so no swearing or ass kicking tonight…”

Molly looked devastated, walked up to him and put her hand on his shoulder. “John, please. I am sorry you don’t approve but Sherlock is gone. None of us can change that. Remember, you agreed to be our child’s godfather. For the sake of the child and for my sake, can’t you see clear to congratulate us?” She looked pleadingly at him.

Mycroft had watched the exchange between John Watson and Molly with cautious eyes. He could feel his temper rising but for Molly’s sake he bit his tongue and said nothing. John Watson was obviously hurting and still in deep mourning for his brother.

“Sure, Molls, congratulations. You look so pretty.” He smiled and reached out and gave her a crushing hug almost knocking her off her feet. She embraced him gently and looked at Mycroft over his shoulder and shook her head. Mycroft reached out to steady her but still said nothing.

John stood back from Molly and looked straight into Mycroft’s face. “You’d better be good to her, you puffed up bastard. Sherlock may have treated her like dirt but he needed her and loved her in his way.  She’s way too good for you Mycroft Holmes, way too good for any Holmes, but congratulations. I hope you are both very happy together.” He reached out to shake Mycroft’s hand and tears began to fall. “I just wish Sherlock were still here.”

Mycroft, in spite of his anger, felt a wave of compassion and reached out and shook John Watson’s hand. “Thank you, Dr. Watson. Both Molly and I wish he were still here too.”

 

******

After their brief and emotional encounter with John Watson, both Molly and Mycroft were subdued as their car battled early evening traffic on the A23. Even government plates could not ease their way through the frantic Friday exodus from London. Conversation flowed for a bit and then silence reigned as both of them sank into their own thoughts. Soon Molly was fast asleep, lulled by the twilight and the smooth movement of the big car.

Mycroft was exhausted but his mind was roaring and would not let him relax. Thank goodness they were finally leaving the city behind them and would be at the house in an hour or so.  He glanced across the back seat at the sleeping Molly. How he envied her ability to sleep almost anywhere. It must be a result of her medical training and long and often erratic hours at Bart’s. Her breathing was soft and even and she was tucked up close to the door with her coat over her lap and knees. He could see the still subtle curve of her pregnancy. Soon she would be great with child and before long they would be parents.

He stretched out his legs as much as the car would allow, forced himself to relax and closed his eyes.  He had been pleased by their performance at the ceremony. It had been spontaneous and as genuine as they could make it. Perhaps a bit too genuine for his taste given the scene in the hallway beforehand. The idea behind his actions had seized him as soon he saw Molly and her obvious fear and trepidation and their brief, but convincing, embrace had been what had really clinched their charade. He had only meant to calm her down and reassure her but the moment had turned into much more than he had anticipated.

When he had touched her he could viscerally feel her need for him pull him in. He had forgotten the charade and all he could taste and feel was her – her small hands at his neck, caressing his skin and easing their way into his hair – her soft lips, her intoxicating scent. As he pulled her close his body sang in response to hers. He felt a rush of desire and primitive male possessiveness and wanted nothing more than to steal her away, bring her home and claim her as his. He wanted her and was well on the way to falling in love with her. This would not do but he knew he was helpless to stop it.

He looked at the wide gold band on his left hand. Her choice to present him with her father’s ring had been unexpected and remarkably affecting. He had to talk to her about these feelings and how their game was beginning to impact him. He could not imagine that she had not felt what he felt when their lips met and time had seemed to stop. He heard her quick breath and felt her pulse thrum in her neck. What were they doing? How could they exert control over what was happening between them? They were married but an absent Sherlock was standing between them.  Or, was it Mycroft standing between Molly and Sherlock and their unborn child?

It was full dark now and the lights of London were fading behind them. He looked at his dim reflection in the window glass and noted his tired eyes and bleak expression. There had to be a way to make this situation one they would all be able to live with. There was time and once they settled into the country house, they would talk.

******

Molly awoke as the car drew into the circular drive of the country house. She stretched, yawned and looked across the seat at Mycroft. He was looking at her steadily and she caught a brief flash of worry before he smoothed his features and smiled at her.

“I am glad you got some sleep on the way down. I am sure Mrs. Carlton has prepared a light dinner and our rooms. Let’s go in and get settled, shall we?” He handed her out of the car and they walked up the entrance of a large Georgian house. It was too informal and whimsical to be a classic 18th century mansion and it looked friendly and welcoming to Molly through the darkness. It was quite dark out here and silent. She could detect the smell of grass and vegetation and heard the whisper of leaves as a light breeze blew through surrounding trees. They were definitely not in London anymore. She was looking forward to seeing more of the house and grounds in the morning. The door opened just as they reached the stone veranda and Mrs. Carlton came out to greet them.

“You made good time from London but I am sure you are both tired from all the excitement today. I have tea and a light dinner staged in the kitchen. Why don’t I show Molly to her room and then you two can eat in the library?” Mrs. Carlton was her cheerful self but Molly could tell she was studying them for any signs of stress.

“Sounds lovely, Mrs. Carlton.” Turning to Mycroft, Molly nodded and started following the older woman up the stairs. “I’ll be down soon to join you.  Why don’t you pour yourself some scotch and relax.” Mycroft nodded at the two women and disappeared through a set of double doors.

Molly looked around and liked what she saw.  There were art and antiques but the atmosphere was more relaxed and less formal than at the residence. Toby appeared from somewhere and he preceded them up the stairs. Mrs. Carlton showed her to her room which turned out to be a small gem of classic British chintz and antique furniture. There was no en suite lavatory but one right next door down the hall.  Her door was just one of several but Mrs. Carlton only pointed out one to her on the far end.

“Mr. Mycroft’s room is just down there.  It is located just above the library and overlooks the side garden. It appears the driver has brought up your cases so I will leave you to freshen up. As I said, the library is just below Mr. Mycroft’s room and I will have the dinner things laid out in there. The house isn’t that large so you will be able to find your way.” Mrs. Carlton turned to go but then stopped and looked at Molly, concern on her lined face.

“Are you all right, Miss Molly?  It was a long afternoon for you and quite the show you and Mr. Mycroft put on for your guests.” She paused as if thinking over what she might say next. “It is none of my business, but if you ever feel the need to talk, please be assured that our conversations will be private. I saw how you two looked at one another this afternoon and I can’t help but be concerned. I am here for you if you need me.” She smiled at Molly, turned and left the room.

Molly put on her cases on the bed, opened it and pulled out her toiletry kit. She knew Mrs. Carlton meant well and was glad to have the older woman as a confidante. Toby tried to hop into her open suitcase but she foiled him by closing it. “I know, I am no fun at all but I can’t have all my new clothes covered in cat hair right away.” She picked him up and hugged him, relishing his soft fur and his soothing purr. “Alright Toby, first hurdle cleared with minimum damage if maximum emotionality. Are we ready for the rest of the ride?”

Toby leapt from her arms and went expectantly to the door, tail held high turning to see if she was following. He had no opinion on their newly married status but he knew the treats were downstairs. Molly sighed, shook her head and followed him out the door and down the stairs to face her new husband. Good lord, it was her wedding night and it was quite clear she would be spending it alone. Not exactly what was expected but then again, when in the last month had anything remotely normal taken place?


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

There was soup, bread and salad laid out on a side table in the library. Mycroft had already taken up residence on the settee in front of the fireplace and was sipping his scotch.  Molly said a shy hello and then sparsely filled a plate.  Mrs. Carlton had made her jasmine tea as she could no longer tolerate her beloved strong black tea, even with milk and sugar. Tea was bad but coffee impossible. The baby must hate caffeine as every time she tried to take a sip her stomach would flip and she was forced to give it up.

Mycroft looked calmer than he had earlier and he too must be feeling relief at being away from London and the eyes that had been trained on them all afternoon. Molly sat on the other end of the settee and tucked up her legs, using the armrest as a support for her back so she could look at Mycroft and be comfortable.

“I like the house or what I’ve seen of it thus far. It should be fun to spend a week in the country as I never seem to get out of London.”  She sipped her tea and nibbled at her bread and cheese. Great, she thought, our lives have been turned upside down and I am making bloody small talk.

Mycroft sipped his scotch and met her eyes. “Yes, I enjoy it too.  It once belonged to a favorite aunt on my mother’s side and when she passed she left it jointly to Sherlock and me.  He never evinced an interest in the property and so I bought him out around eight years ago. I come down here when things get too intense in London and I need a break. Unfortunately, with the new wireless technology, one can never truly get away but I am getting better at not checking my mobile very often and only using the computer when absolutely necessary.”

Molly laughed and looked doubtful. “I can’t picture you or Anthea without your ever present mobiles but if you say so. What do you enjoy doing down here?”

Mycroft frowned at the mention of Anthea. Molly noticed his expression and thought that here was another story when and if he chose to tell it.  He quickly shook off his thoughts on Anthea and continued.

“I read a good deal on rainy days but when the sun shines I try to get out and walk. I never seem to get enough exercise but walking just doesn’t feel like as much of a chore down here as opposed to in London. Down here the air is clean, you can hear the birds and the wind in the trees and though the locals know I am in residence, they don’t bother me much.” He paused. “However, I usually cannot stay for more than a week as I either get restive or duty calls. It may be different now that you are here.”

He reluctantly brought the subject back to Anthea. “I can’t think of what has gotten into Anthea. She was in on the plan from the beginning. Her emotional response is puzzling to me. We have worked together for over ten years and this is the first time we’ve had a major disagreement. It has to be her stress over taking over the department as I cannot fathom her having a problem with our marriage. She knows the situation and intellectually understands.” Mycroft looked at Molly with a truly puzzled face. “Am I missing something? I thought she would be beyond pleased to have me gone.”

Molly raised her eyebrows.  How little he knew about women. “Mycroft, her understanding intellectually does not mean it wasn’t a shock to her when it was finally thrust into her face.  Our little diversion this afternoon moved my mum to tears it was so convincing. What do you think it did to Anthea who has had you all to herself without meaningful competition for all this time? It doesn’t matter that you two were not romantically involved. She cares deeply about you and its normal for her to feel threatened when you haul off and snog another woman silly in front of her.”

Mycroft’s face was a study and Molly laughed, breaking the tension. “You really think that is the case?” he asked.

“Yes, and I am sure it will resolve itself over time. However, I would call to check in on her in a day or two just to reassure her that I have not hijacked you permanently. You mean a lot to her, Mycroft, and she is going to miss you for the duration.”

“You have a point even though I can’t see it. Snogged you silly? Now that is quite the description.” He folded his arms across his chest and pretended to be affronted.

“Oh stop it. You can’t tell me that you have ever done what you did this afternoon in front of Anthea. It was a scene worthy of the most heart rending romantic film ever made. Well done. Mr. Holmes, you certainly got my attention.” She smiled impishly at him over her teacup.  He smiled back looking quite pleased with himself. She shook her head and muttered under her breath. “Men…”

He looked at her closely. She seemed fine. However, he had to ask the question. “Are you all right with how things played out this afternoon? I must admit to finding the entire experience to be emotionally fraught. I have my thoughts on the subject but think we should let things settle for a few days before we talk about them. What do you think?”

Molly let out a big breath and looked relieved. “I am so glad you brought it up as I was worried that you might not want to talk about it all. I am fine with waiting a day or so as I need to gather my thoughts as well.” She gestured with her left hand and the diamond and emerald wedding set glittered in the firelight. “Thank you for the lovely ring and for making this afternoon such a good experience for me. I was terrified. Once I saw you the whole thing was not as frightening as I had built it up in my mind. It seems I have found myself a husband and a best friend at long last. I’m glad it’s you.” She smiled at him shyly.

Touched by her sweet words, Mycroft smiled gently back at her. “I thank you too for agreeing to this unlikely scheme and saddling yourself me. I know that I am not what you want but I will hold to my promise to you and the child.” He paused and considered his next words. “I too am glad it is you as I have grown very fond of you in the past weeks. The ring was a surprise and I am touched that you would give me something that meant so much to your father. Family pieces mean so much more when given with a sincere heart.”

Molly reached across the couch and took his hand. He did not appear to realize just how much he had come to mean to her and his self-deprecation made her heart hurt. “In spite of everything, I think we did the right thing for all of us. We have a long time to talk and right now I am knackered and need to go to bed.” She slid across the settee and kissed him gently on the cheek. “Goodnight husband.”

“Good night wife.” He responded, lifting her hand to his lips. “I will see you in the morning, sleep well.”

She left him staring into the fire and finishing his now diluted scotch. It was a relief to him that she too seemed more than aware of the emotional tight rope they had started to walk together. They were quite the pair – the aging bureaucrat and the girl pathologist thrown together by his asinine younger brother and the vagaries of fate. Perhaps this marriage by proxy would teach him something about life that had eluded him to date.  Perhaps it was just what he needed to gain a fresh perspective and new direction for his life.

He rose, stretched, banked the fire and closed the screen. The house was silent and it was time to turn in. Toby joined him on the stairs and waited outside of Molly’s room to be let in.  Mycroft gently cracked the door just enough for the cat to slip through.  He glanced towards the bed. Molly was deeply asleep, curled into her covers, her back to him.  He felt a wave of tenderness looking at her in so intimate a setting. Smiling to himself he closed her door most of the way and went down to hall to a deep and dreamless sleep.


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

The week in Surrey had been a blur of walks, social calls, small gifts and cards.  It seemed as if the whole world knew that she and Mycroft had married and were wishing them well. Mycroft’s newly married status had intrigued the locals and they were waved at, stared at and congratulated as they made their way across the fields and lanes of the neighborhood. Mycroft took it all in good humor and Molly had enjoyed it too. Happiness was always better when shared and she was happy. 

After that first somewhat awkward evening, they had quickly settled into a quiet household routine.  After breakfast, Molly would spend the morning reading or working on her conference papers. She had finished and submitted one and was on the 2nd drafts of the other two. Mycroft would shut himself into his study to answer e-mails and do Mycroft things. He had called Anthea the day after they arrived and things seemed to have smoothed over between them. The afternoons were spent outside when the weather allowed and though rain was predicted on the day they returned from London, the week had been fair and sunny. Their time together had been comfortable and easy and they did not let the fact that they were now married get in the way of their growing friendship and regard for one another. However, the undercurrent of tension had not gone away and Molly found herself fantasizing a very different and much more intimate relationship than they had now. Not good but not unexpected.

She was now in her fifth month and was looking more obviously pregnant. She was getting used to the change in her center of gravity but other changes took her quite by surprise.  Her skin glowed and now that she was well past her first trimester, her queasiness had disappeared completely though she did not have much of an appetite. She still had leg cramps but they were only bad if she had been on her feet too long. She was learning to pace herself and not to fight the urge to nap. It seemed like she was always napping, no matter how well she had slept the night before. Her body also vibrated with an almost unbearable sexual tension and it took all of her self-control to limit her contact with Mycroft to a gentle affection. Every time she touched him a deep yearning spiraled up from her center and almost took her breath away. She had missed the exceptionally-aroused-at-all-times chapter in her books on pregnancy. And the dreams….the less said about those the better. Oh well, she would channel that energy into more productive and less frightening things and keep a lid on it as much as she could. Mrs. Carlton had taught her to make soufflé and she was having fun in the kitchen experimenting with mostly savory varieties.  She had decided that soufflé was her favorite food and hoped that Mycroft was not getting sick of it. Making soufflé was much more acceptable than thinking about wild sex with Mycroft 24-7. Well… maybe not.

She wrote thank-you cards, after checking with Mycroft on the particulars of the gift and card senders. Most of the items had been useful or hand crafted items and two of her favorites had been a small case of locally produced honey and several jars of fresh strawberry preserves from their closest neighbor. The cards had slowed to a trickle and Molly was relieved. Life was settling into the new normal and she and Mycroft were no longer news. 

She worried over Sherlock.  They had still not heard from him even though he and Mycroft had formulated a plan for contact before Sherlock left for the continent.  Mycroft’s network had heard nothing and so they both quietly worried while navigating their new, shared life. Molly had made the transition fairly smoothly but it still flummoxed her when a neighbor or store clerk called her Mrs. Holmes. Mycroft too was taking it in stride and though they still had not talked, she knew they would before the week was up and they returned to London. He was polite, kind but slightly distant with her which was just fine given her present state of confusion regarding what their futures might bring. She could tell he was watching her and she hoped that he was unaware of her growing feelings, especially the particularly salacious ones.

It was late in the week and Molly was in the side garden cutting peonies when Mycroft emerged from the house, his face grim and his mobile in his hand. She looked up to smile at him but the smile quickly died on her lips. She instantly dropped her shears, quickly placed the flowers into a bucket of water, yanked off her gloves and went to join him on the terrace. 

“What is it? What’s wrong?” Her voice rising, Molly walked up to him and he carefully reached out and took her by both arms keeping his eyes fixed on hers. Molly knew something bad had happened and felt a rising anxiety. No, oh no. Why wasn’t he saying anything? Had something happened to Sherlock?

Mycroft looked into her face with a deep compassion. The call he had just received had been a shock and would turn Molly’s world upside down. 

“Molly, your mother’s neighbor just called. I’m afraid your mum has had a massive stroke and is in hospital. We need to leave for London immediately. Her condition is critical and though she is breathing on her own, she has not regained consciousness.” Mycroft paused as he saw all the color drain from Molly’s face. “I am so sorry.”


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finished at long last! Thanks for being patient as I worked through the last half. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Chapter 21

The next few hours were a blur but at least they did not have to fight the traffic going back into London. Mrs. Carlton had been left behind to close up the house, pack for them and bring Toby back to the residence. Molly and Mycroft were headed straight for the hospital in north London that was not far from her mum’s house. She had decided it would be best they stay overnight at Molly’s old home as the residence was just too far away from the hospital. Mycroft had been busy on his mobile and security details were already in place at the house and the hospital. The house had been swept by Mycroft’s people and was clean. Molly was relieved he handled everything so efficiently while she sat stunned and unmoving as the car sped towards London.  She felt numb and so far had not shed a tear. Mycroft watched her carefully as the trip progressed and evening came on.  He was concerned at her lack of emotionality and the fact she was not communicating.  Not like Molly at all and it worried him.

It would be at least another hour before they arrived and though Molly had called the hospital her mum’s doctor had yet to call her back. Molly went over in her head what she knew about strokes and if it had indeed been massive there might not be much left. The difficulty with being a doctor was that she knew what had happened to her mum and had seen such damage first hand in the morgue. She was breathing on her own which was good but there were so many variables that it was useless to speculate. Molly would just have to wait to see the doctor and read the chart if they would let her.  Mycroft assured her that whatever happened, her mum would have excellent care. Once she was stable enough to move, they would have her transferred to a private hospital or care center closer to the residence. Thank goodness he was with her as his quiet strength, efficiency and arm’s length perspective provided her with just the kind of support she needed right now. His silent watchfulness, which would have made her crazy in another person, did nothing but reassure her.

Molly felt strangely detached as if what was happening wasn’t really happening to her but someone else. She didn’t know how to feel as she and Mycroft arrived and walked through the front doors of the hospital. She did not know if she was prepared to face her mum’s death or disabling condition.  Things had finally started to turn around for them and her mum had seemed to be looking forward to being a grandmother. Why this? Why now?

After a brief check with the front desk, they took the lift up to critical care. They were admitted to the room at once and the doctor paged. Molly walked up to the bed and looked down at her mum. She automatically checked her pulse before taking her hand.  It was weak but steady. Never a big woman, Helen Hooper looked shrunken and old. She had always been so strong and fierce and now she looked so helpless. Molly studied her with her physician’s eye and noted no obvious signs of facial drooping or paralysis. How much brain function had been impacted would not be known until she regained consciousness.

Molly sat talking quietly with Mycroft at her mum’s bedside for what seemed like hours when the doctor came in, introductions were made and they went down the hall to a small, private room.  His name was Dr. Edwin Morgan and he was a middle-aged man with a serious face and kind manner. They all sat, Mycroft gently taking Molly’s hand without looking at her. Dr. Morgan, noting Molly’s pregnancy, spoke gently but pragmatically. 

“Your mother has had a massive infarction in the areas of the brain impacting speech and long term memory. It is not clear to us when she had the stroke and it is lucky for her that her neighbor hadn’t seen her yesterday morning and went to check. We have started her on a regimen of anticoagulants, a thrombolytic to prevent further clots and a blood pressure medication. Your mother unfortunately appears to have neglected her health and both her blood pressure and cholesterol levels are very high. We will treat the stroke and should she recover from this incident we can discuss further treatment to get those levels under control.” He looked at Molly as if assessing her resiliency. “We won’t really know the extent of the damage until she wakes up but I feel compelled to tell you that it was a serious event and there is a high risk of another stroke. We will do all that we can but you should be aware that the outcome may not be good. We hope to know more in the next 36 hours. Do you have any further questions?”

“Not right now but I am sure that I will. I am a pathologist at Bart’s and so I know what you are saying and I understand the seriousness of my mum’s condition.” Molly looked at him with grave attention. “Thank you for your care of my mother and please keep us informed.”

Dr. Morgan nodded at them and handed them a card. “This is my number as well as the number of the hospital.  Your mother is stable and so I highly recommend you go home and get some rest.” He placed a gentle hand on Molly’s shoulder, nodded at Mycroft and was gone.

Molly looked at Mycroft who had said very little since they arrived at the hospital. “We should go to the house and get some rest. It’s late and I am exhausted and I am sure you are feeling the same. You don’t have to stay with me at mum’s if you are not comfortable. I can ring for a car in the morning and you can meet up with me later at the hospital. If you don’t think I should be alone, you can always send Mrs. Carlton.” She looked uncomfortable. “I’m sure that you weren’t expecting to sign up for this kind of thing as part of our agreement.”

Mycroft studied her and tried to read her emotions. He didn’t know what to do either and it was frustrating for someone so used to being able to control most situations. He was on new ground and was unsure of how to navigate. “What do you want me to do, Molly? I will acquiesce to your wishes.”

She looked back at him and gave him the ghost of a smile. “I would like you to stay if you could. Your presence is a great comfort to me and I would rather you be with me than anyone else right now.”

“That settles it then. I have taken the liberty of having some food delivered and I will accompany you back to the house. I don’t want you to be alone right now either.” He rose and offered her his hand. “Let’s get you home, feed you and tuck you up. The car is on its way.”

She stood up, walked over and leaned into him. He was warm and smelled good and felt like home. “I am so tired.” She whispered. He put his arm around her and together they left the hospital just as it started to rain.

 

******

They arrived at the house and it was mostly dark except for one small light on in a front window. It had begun to rain in earnest and Molly dug in her bag for her keys. The driver retrieved their overnight bags from the trunk and Mycroft came around the side of the car, popped his umbrella and together they dashed for the front door. Molly inserted the key and they were inside. She was instantly overcome by the light scent of her mother overlaid with the comforting and nostalgic smells of home. Her eyes welled up but she forcefully pushed the emotions down. She turned on a lamp in the main sitting room. The driver brought their bags inside and looked to Mycroft who dismissed him with a nod.

“The kitchen is just through there and there is a small bedroom on this floor that used to be mine. My mum’s bedroom and sewing room is upstairs.” Molly put down her bag and went into the kitchen.  There were take-out bags on the table from the local Chinese place.  Not inspired food but laden with vegetables and mild enough not to upset her stomach. Her beloved Thai food smelled divine but did not make her digestion happy. She was dying for a strong drink but would just have to suck it up and have some jasmine tea instead.

She paused for a moment and almost broke down when she saw a single cup and dish in the sink waiting to be washed up.  How many times had she seen her mum have her final cup of tea and small snack after dinner, rinse the cup and plate and leave it in the sink to wash up with the breakfast dishes?  She must have had her stroke sometime after dinner and before bed. Molly did not want to think about her mum, alone on the floor with god knows what going through her head with no one to help her. Molly shook her head as if to banish the negative thoughts.

She bustled around the familiar kitchen, putting the kettle on and setting the table while Mycroft watched her silently from the doorway. She looked at him quizzically but she stayed in motion until the food was hot, the tea was ready and the table was set. “All done, why don’t you sit and we’ll eat and then figure out sleeping arrangements. You’ve been quiet, what are you thinking?”

Mycroft sat and looked at her thoughtfully. “I was just thinking that if we were a normal married couple that this pattern, you bustling in the kitchen and me sitting down to dinner, would be repeated over and over again every day for years with variations. There would be no drivers, no staff, no security and no threats except for those that challenged people everywhere like how to pay one’s taxes and navigate the stresses of daily life. It’s been a long, long time since I even brushed up against normalcy. Too busy running the country I guess. I can’t help but think now about what I have been missing all these years.” He paused and went on. “I am sorry about your mother.  I know that your relationship with her was troubled but you mustn’t blame yourself for what happened to her. I have watched you struggle with yourself for hours. Let it go, Molly. You didn’t cause it and you can’t cure it. All you can do is the best you can and accept what comes. I am not the most caring of men but do I care for you and I won’t let you blame yourself.”

Molly sighed.  “It’s just so hard thinking about losing her. She is difficult but she is the last of my family. Everything seemed to be my fault when I was growing up and though she didn’t mean to make me feel like that, neither of us seemed to be able to help it. I still compulsively step up and take the blame for almost anything that goes wrong be it at work, in my friendships or with her. I intellectually know I am not to blame for her stroke but all I can think about is her lying alone and hurt in this dark house while I was larking about on my sham honeymoon.  Sad, I know, but it’s hard for me not to think that way.”

Mycroft reached across the table to touch her hand. “I have never been one to offer false comfort. Life can be very cruel sometimes and our lifetimes are all finite. Your mother seemed happy for you in her way and I’m sure she would not want you to blame yourself. It is just plain ill luck that we were in Surrey and couldn’t get here earlier. However, it is doubtful we would have known much earlier than we did since I know you had not planned on calling her until after we returned anyway.  It was all part of our plan. If she knew the real gravity of your situation, do you think she would resent you for not being there?  I don’t think so, Molly.  Although she is a difficult woman, she would have done anything for you.”

Molly felt a rush of relief and started to cry. Mycroft too was relieved, as tears were far superior to her silent anguish.  “Come now, it’s off to bed for you. It’s been a wretched day and you need your sleep.  The hospital has our mobile numbers and there’s no more to be done tonight.” He rose and pulled her to her feet. Taking his handkerchief out of his pocket, he gently wiped the tears from her face. She once more leaned into him and breathed in his comforting scent.

“I will be all right, Mycroft, and you’re right, I should stop being stupid and go to bed. I’ll rinse the dishes and then get the bedrooms ready.” She started to clear the table when Mycroft stopped her.

“I know you think I have never touched a dirty dish in my life but I assure you that is not the case.  I will clear up here. Why don’t you check out the bedrooms and get ready for bed. I will be with you directly.”

Molly had an absurd vision of Mycroft in an apron and laughed through her tears. He rolled his eyes at her reaction. “You see, just the idea of me doing dishes makes you laugh and feel better. Now scoot.”

“Thank you, Mycroft. I am glad you’re here.” Molly smiled at him weakly and left to make the sure the bathroom was clean and the bedrooms ready. She was willing to give up the dishes but her mum would never forgive her if the sheets weren’t fresh.


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

Molly slept in her old room and put Mycroft upstairs. She was asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow but was up before dawn fretting. There had been no word from the hospital which she interpreted as a good thing. She put her robe on over her nightgown and crept down then hall to put the kettle on for tea. Entering the small kitchen, she noted the dishes stacked neatly in the rack and the dishtowel precisely folded and hung up. She smiled to herself as she thought of Mycroft doing something so routinely domestic. Her well established opinion of him was starting to fray around the edges. His persona was so much more complex than the image he projected and he had surprised her more times than she could name. More food for thought she mused as she sat down for her first morning cup and a bit of research about strokes on her laptop.

She was deep into her research when she detected a small movement out of the corner of her eye.  Dawn had not yet broken and Mycroft stood in the kitchen doorway looking at her disapprovingly. He was in his robe and pajamas which struck Molly as she had never seen him in a state of undress before. Not that he wasn’t decent but a robe and pajamas, even though they were very Mycroft and covered him completely, were shockingly intimate. Even in the more relaxed environment of the country house, he had always come down for breakfast fully clothed as had she. If anyone bothered to peak through the kitchen window right now they would present a charmingly domesticated scene.

His voice was stern when he spoke. “You are supposed to be asleep catching up on your rest, not obsessing over medical research on your computer.” Walking over to the dish rack, he removed a cup and poured himself some tea. “However, since you are up why don’t you tell me about what you’ve learned thus far.” He drew his chair closer to hers to look at the screen.

Setting his tea down next to the monitor, his open sleeve crept up his forearm. Molly found herself staring at the fine bones of his wrist and spray of freckles across his skin. He looked at her curiously and her eyes quickly snapped back to the screen. She brought up a colored plate of the brain that was part of the report she had been reading. She pointed at a particular part of the illustration and was just about to speak when her mobile started to ring. She startled and looked at it as if it were a snake before finally picking it up.

“Hello? Yes, this is Molly Hooper. I see. Yes, we are nearby and will come right in. Thank you for letting me know.”  Molly’s face looked stricken. “That was the hospital. They believe mum to be actively dying and they need us there. Oh Mycroft, what will I do if she dies? When she’s gone I will have no family at all. She so wanted to be a grandmother…” Molly’s voice trailed off as she got up. “Could you please call for the car? We need to get dressed and go.”

Mycroft immediately keyed his phone to call for a car. He stood and gently hugged her to him, stroking her hair and murmuring in a comforting voice. “The car will be here in less than 15 minutes. You may lose your mother today but I am part of your family now and I promise I will never leave you.”

Molly nodded, silent and hugged him back. They stood holding each other for a moment in the dark kitchen and looked at the first light coming up over the neighborhood.  Molly stepped away first and they left peace of the quiet kitchen to prepare for the worst.

 

******

Molly stood alone under the covered entrance of the hospital waiting for the car. She was pale and her face was marked by tears. Mycroft had stayed behind briefly to talk with the hospital staff about arrangements and would join her in a moment.  Her mum had died a little after 8:00 AM, quietly and with little fanfare. She never regained consciousness and though Molly said her heart-felt goodbyes and held her hand, Helen Hooper passed out of this world with nary a sound; breathing one moment and then not the next. Mycroft had stood quietly next to Molly at the bedside, his hand softly stroking her back, his eyes sad. He held Molly after the nurses confirmed the death, speaking gently to her and reassuring her that he would take care of everything. He then took her out into the hallway and pressed a cup of sweetened tea into her hand, making sure she drank it. He then called Mrs. Carlton, told her the news and let her know they would be back at the residence later that morning.

Molly would return to the house tomorrow probably with Mycroft or Mrs. Carlton in tow and she would start going through her mum’s things. Molly knew where all of the legal papers were but had little concept of their contents. She assumed that her mum had left her the house and whatever money was left in the estate of her father. Busy work, she thought bleakly as the car pulled up and the driver handed her in. Busy work made exponentially more difficult by the grim reality of her mother’s passing. She sat staring at the rain feeling empty.

She would never speak to her mother again and the irrevocable nature of death of a loved one, well known to her in abstract, was now crystal clear. She knew what death was and had comforted the many distraught family members that had trooped through her morgue in search of answers but had not really understood their grief until today. Her mother was gone and she would never return. She would never see her again except in her mind and memory.  It was a difficult concept to grasp as though she and her mum had a difficult relationship her mum had always been a steady, if unpredictable, presence in Molly’s life.  The one voice that had been a constant for her entire existence had been stilled. The person who had loved her most in this world was gone and she was bereft.

******

Molly’s mother had left a simple will as predicted and left her entire estate to Molly. She had neatly organized all of her papers and though Molly had hoped to find some sort of letter or personal message, she found nothing.  It had taken she and Mrs. Carlton the better part of a week to clean out the house, donate the furniture and put the property up for sale. Molly had kept several boxes of sentimental items as well as all of the family photos but the rest she let go.  Standing in the front door at the now empty and neutral space, she took one last look, turned her back and closed the door. There was nothing left here for her and it was time to move on. 

The memorial service had been simple and her mum had been cremated and interred with Molly’s father. She, Mycroft and a few of her mum’s old friends were the only people at the graveside. Mycroft’s parents were abroad and though they had called, they could not get back to the UK for the service.  They expressed their sorrow at Helen Hooper’s passing and promised to visit upon their return the following month.

Molly had been alternately weepy and calm and Mrs. Carlton had been a great comfort to her standing in as a surrogate aunt and helping her negotiate the trial of personal condolences and sympathy cards. Mycroft had been there for her but kept his distance as if knowing that she needed some time to process her mother’s death. On the morning of the service he had walked with her, kept a protective hand on her back and watched her closely to insure she was handling the stress reasonably well.

Her pregnancy was progressing normally but Molly’s doctor had been worried about a drop in blood pressure that she attributed to stress and inadequate sleep. After having slept the first 5 months away, Molly now found herself restless and sleep was elusive. Nothing seemed to help and the morning of the service found her pale, exhausted and leaning heavily on Mycroft.  She got through the morning but was quite relieved to be walking into the residence just after noon with no further responsibilities to weigh on her mind.       

She left Mycroft at the base of the stairs. “I am going upstairs to try and take a nap. I will be down in time for dinner if not before.” Her voice was listless and her exhaustion showed plainly in her eyes.

Mycroft kissed her on the forehead. “Sleep well, my dear. I will see you after your nap. I will be in the library if you need me.”  He was worried about her as her mum’s death had taken a toll and though he had seen glimmers of her former self, she was far from being back to normal. He watched her climb the stairs alone and felt helpless in the wake of her grief. He would leave her alone for now but would check in on her later.

Molly turned at the top of the stairs and watched Mycroft cross the hall and go into the library.  She felt so alone. She needed him right now but felt helpless to ask him for what he might not want to give. They were together but both of them were still very much alone. What was she going to do?  Maybe try and get some sleep and perhaps things might look clearer and less daunting afterwards.

She went down the hall to her room, stopped in front of her door and after pausing for a long moment, she made a decision. She turned, crossed the hall and silently opened the door to Mycroft’s room. Not stopping to think as she was afraid she would change her mind, she crossed to his bed, kicked off her shoes, flipped back the coverlet and lay down. She was instantly surrounded by his calming scent and felt some of the anxiety leave her body as she snuggled into the soft mattress. Her last conscious thought was that it was so good to be this close to him even though it was an illusion. She was asleep in minutes.

 

******

Mycroft had been reading for over an hour but could not concentrate. A small scotch and changing chairs had not helped. No use reading the same paragraph over and over again. He would go upstairs and check on Molly. She was the source of his unrest as she had been for the past weeks. Things were just not right with her and even his formidable powers of observation had failed to puzzle out an answer. She had not come back down so he assumed she had fallen asleep. 

He climbed the stairs, walked quietly down the hall and opened Molly’s door. Her bed was empty and undisturbed and with his concern rising, he entered the room and did a quick check of the office and the sitting room. Finding nothing, he went back out in the hall. Where might she have gone? She had looked at him so sadly earlier as if she had wanted something but couldn’t express it.  He set his mind to the problem and when it came to him, he mentally berated himself for being so slow. How did normal people navigate these storms of emotions?

He crossed the hall and opened the door of his bedroom.  He saw her shoes discarded carelessly on the floor and then saw her, fast asleep and curled into his covers. He quietly closed the door and walked over to the bed. He looked down at her peaceful face and felt his heart constrict.  She was lonely but had somehow been unable or afraid to tell him.  A wave of love for her so profound it made his eyes swim passed over him.  Desperate for comfort she had decided that if she couldn’t have him she could perhaps find peace in his most private space. Oh what a tangled web they had spun for themselves. The theatre piece had become their life and they were both too far gone to turn back.

He removed his shoes and silently took off his jacket, vest and tie. In just shirtsleeves and trousers and as quietly and gently as he could, he lay down on the bed beside her, slipping under the covers without disturbing her. She lay on her side and very slowly he slid his arms around her and spooned into her back.  He kissed the back of her head, smelling her light floral shampoo and nuzzled his nose into her hair. He felt her heart beating, closed his eyes and felt the tension of the past week drain from his body. As he too slipped into sleep, his last thought was of how good and how right this felt.  He loved her and no longer cared what might happen should they both take this last inexorable step.


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23

Molly woke slowly, stretching luxuriously and smiling to herself, beyond thankful that she had finally gotten a good rest. Shaking off the last vestiges of a deep sleep, she suddenly became aware she was no longer alone. Now wide awake, she felt the weight of a hand resting on her hip and a tall body curled into hers. She stiffened slightly but then relaxed. This had been what she wanted and she would be damned if she let her nerves talk her out of it. She gently took the hand off her hip and wrapped it around her ribs just under her breasts. She curled herself even closer to him as she looked at the dim pattern of fading light through the sheers. They must have slept for hours as the evening was coming on.

She felt his arms tighten around her and he spoke softly into her ear, his breath warm on her neck. “It seems that we both needed a nap. I hope you are feeling better.  I have been so worried about you.”

Without turning, she snuggled further into him, placing her hands over his. It was so much easier to talk without looking at him. “I feel better now that I’ve gotten some sleep. I’m sorry about this past week. I have felt overwhelmed and emotionally fragile and could not articulate my feelings. I know you have been worried about me but just did not have the energy or will to do anything about it. I was afraid to ask you to stay with me as we have already been pushing the limits and I didn’t want you to feel obligated to do anything you did not want to do.” He wound his fingers through hers and squeezed gently. She paused for a moment and continued.

“I know we have an agreement and I am prepared to abide by it. However, my mum’s passing has made me think about how little time we all have to find out what and who is really important to us. I know you believe I love Sherlock but I don’t, not in the way you think. You probably believe that the life we are living is just a placeholder and that once the baby is born and Sherlock comes back, I will leave you for him. I don’t blame you for thinking that as it was an integral part of our plan. What I have been so afraid to tell you is that I have come to believe that our plan is flawed.”

She turned over and looked into his eyes, their faces just inches apart. “I don’t want to wait anymore for something that will never be. These past weeks have been some of the best and worst of my life and every day there has been only one constant for me and that is you. You’ve given me more of yourself in this short span of time than Sherlock gave me in years. I know I am carrying your brother’s child and what I am saying to you may be hard to believe but it’s true. I’m falling in love with you and I don’t know what to do or how to make you believe me. I’ve never felt this way before about anyone and it’s tearing me apart. Please help me to make sense of all this. I don’t want to take the wrong path and I don’t want to lose you.”

Mycroft, who had been silent while she spoke, reached up to tuck stray hair behind her ear. He smiled a soft smile and kissed her, drawing her to him so that they were pressed together from thigh to breast. “You won’t lose me.” He breathed. His hand traced the graceful outline of her hip and waist, grazed her breast and came to rest at the hollow of her neck, gently stroking the delicate skin.

“So soft…” he murmured, kissing her neck. Slipping his hand behind her head and feeling the hot thrum of her blood, he looked into her eyes and pulled her into a deep kiss, their bodies touching intimately and legs intertwined. She caressed him through his thin layer of clothing mapping his musculature and bones and thinking about how much she wanted to feel his skin. They moved together in a slow dance of mutual exploration as the shadows lengthened and night began to fall.

Molly reached up and unbuttoned the top buttons of his shirt, lowered her head and pressed her face into his upper chest. She was overwhelmed with his scent, the silken texture of hair and skin and she gently kissed the hollow at the base of his throat.

He moaned and brought her face up for a more aggressive kiss, strong hands pulling her pelvis into his, grinding himself into her. She responded in kind and time became a hallucinatory blur of heat and flesh and feeling. There was so much she didn’t know about this man but she no longer cared.  His teeth grazed the peak of one breast through her thin shirt. She arched her back in an invitation and when his mouth latched on she almost came out of her skin, the feelings were so intense.

He suddenly drew back and held her at arm’s length. His eyes were dark with passion and his breath came in short bursts. “Are you sure? There is still time to…” He did not have time to finish his sentence as Molly stiffened and look of wonder crossed her face.

“Oh…” Her eyes widened and her hand flew to the curve of her belly. She looked at Mycroft, her heart still thundering in her chest. “The baby… The baby just moved. Just here…” She reached for his hand and placed it just where she had felt the tiny flutter of movement. Stillness reigned and just as Molly thought it would not happen again, there was another flutter of movement under their joined hands. Mycroft’s eyes widen and he smiled broadly at Molly, gently disengaging himself from her arms and pulling back. He reached out to stroke her face. “As much as I desire to continue, I think perhaps we should talk before things get more out of hand and we both do something we might regret later. Do you agree?”

Molly returned his smile. “Yes… No….Yes, I think you are right but I don’t really want to agree. I want to do more of this…” She slid into him, kissed him quickly and then backed off just as quickly. He smiled at her indulgently, sat up and held out his hand to help her out of the bed. His Molly was back and though they still had a long road ahead of them, he knew she would be all right with time and care.

“Perhaps we can negotiate a compromise but for now, I think it best we get up, put ourselves back together and have a light dinner. It is late and I am sure Mrs. Carlton is thinking the worst. Can’t imagine why?” He rolled his eyes and chuckled as he tucked his shirt back into his trousers and put his vest and jacket back on.

Molly looked into the mirror, smoothed her mussed hair and shook out her twisted clothes. Her lips were swollen from kisses and she looked slightly intoxicated. She smiled at him and reached out for his hand. “What? No tie at dinner Mr. Holmes? The staff will be scandalized. I like it though.” She walked up to him and with an impish grin and ran her fingers through the fine hair at the hollow of his neck. Her voice went low and intimate. “I have wanted to do that for weeks…”

“Hell with the staff and what they think.” He pulled her to him and kissed her again. “They are in sad need of entertainment as life around here is generally dull as dishwater. Why do I think that is going to change?”

Taking her hand, he opened the door and they walked down the hall and the down the stairs to the library. They did not see Mrs. Carlton watching them from the shadows, her face a mask of concern as she watched them together. Shaking her head, she faded back into the corridor the kitchen unseen.


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter 24

Dinner passed quickly and though Mrs. Carlton thoughtfully studied them both as she served, she said nothing. Molly would talk to her tomorrow to set her straight about what was going on.  She didn’t want the older woman to worry.

The tension broken for the time being, Molly and Mycroft talked about the quickening of the baby, the passing of Molly’s mum, her upcoming conference paper submissions and Sherlock’s continuing silence. Although they did not speak of the events of that afternoon, it was only a matter of time until they did. Molly had told him how she felt and what she wanted and that was enough for now.  They had a lot to live through between now and Sherlock’s return and they could wait. They spent the evening hours on crossword puzzles, each trying to best the other in speed and accuracy. It was after ten when their good natured word jousting came to an end.

“Come, wife, time for bed.” Mycroft reached for her hand and pulled her out of her chair. She looked at him, her face a question. Did he mean what she thought he meant?

“You didn’t think we were going to go back from here, did you? I am inviting you into my bed though not for anything nefarious.” He paused and looked thoughtfully at her. “I think it’s time. We need to stave off your anxiety and let you get some decent sleep. For some odd reason, you seem to be comforted by my proximity and I too enjoy being close to you. We have much to discuss but I promise on my honour as a gentleman that nothing untoward will happen unless we mutually agree to take the next step.”

She laughed at his almost Victorian sensibility but responded in kind. “Thank you, kind sir, for respecting my delicate sensibilities and sparing me your baser intentions. How sad for me…” Molly started to laugh, grabbed a soft cushion from a couch and threw it at him.

Mycroft caught the cushion deftly and lobbed it back at her. It caught her on the side of the head and still laughing uncontrollably, she threw it back. Mycroft was nearly on top of her and threatening to throw again when he suddenly stopped, grabbed her hand and drew her to him. His kiss stopped her laughter and her breath and the cushion dropped forgotten to the floor.

“As I said before, come wife, it’s to bed for us.” Before Molly could react, he swept her laughing into his arms and carried her out of the library to the base of the stairs. Shocked at first, then immensely pleased, she relaxed into him and put her head down on his chest. Their delighted laughter rang through the quiet hallway.

“Shhh, we are scandalizing the servants, sir. Whatever will they think? We may have a mass insurrection by morning.” Molly’s laughter stalled out. “But seriously, you should put me down as I weigh a ton and it can’t be good for your back.”

Mycroft gently set her on her feet, took her hand and they started up the stairs. He left her at the door her room. “Go ahead and change. You know where I will be.” He kissed her forehead and crossed the hall to his room. ”Don’t be long.”

 

******

Molly quickly changed into a long nightgown, braided her hair into a single plate and put on her robe and slippers. Her face was washed and her teeth were brushed but she was dithering. She had slept with Sherlock, yes, but this was different. This was intimate, mostly-in-love and definitely wanting-to-have- sex kind of sleeping together. What had seemed mostly possible less than 15 minutes ago had quite quickly become a worry.  She took one more look in the mirror, squared her shoulders, left her room and crossed the hall. Faint heart and all that… She knocked gently at his door before entering and closing it behind her.

The room was in darkness except for the light of a bedside lamp. Mycroft was sitting up in bed, pillows behind his back reading a book. He was in pajamas and looked steadily over the book spine at her as she slowly approached the bed. Her face was a bit pale and he could tell that she had been overthinking things.

He flipped back the covers and patted her side of the bed, all the while giving her as reassuring smile as he could. “Feeling a bit strange?  No worries, it will pass. It’s just me after all.”

Right, she thought, just you - one of the most powerful, intimidating and strangely attractive men in the United Kingdom. She smiled thinly at him, took off her robe, kicked off her slippers and got into bed. He put down his book, drew up the covers, turned off the light and pulled her to him in the dark. He stroked her hair and kissed her forehead. “Just me, Molly; just the man you married. Now, go to sleep. There will be plenty of time to talk tomorrow.”

Nerves settled, she curled into his side, reveling in his warmth and touch. “Goodnight, Mycroft. I love you too.” She turned, adjusted the pillow and covers and was almost instantly asleep.

He spent a long time awake pondering her words and looking down at her in the dim moonlight coming through the sheers. How precious she had become to him in such a short time. His younger brother was definitely not getting his pathologist back without a fight.

******

Mycroft woke to the faint buzz of his mobile which he had set on vibrate and left on the night stand. He turned over as not to disturb Molly and keyed his screen. What he read there made his face grow thoughtful. He shut down the screen, set it down and turned to stare up into the darkness. Sherlock had finally sent a message and Mycroft knew several things for certain. Sherlock was definitely alive, he knew about the announcement in the Times, knew about the marriage and was not pleased. Mycroft also knew one more thing that his little brother did not yet know and could not have predicted in his wildest imaginings. His older and smarter brother loved Molly Hooper and had no intention of ever giving her back.


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter 25

Molly snorted laughter as she read the text from Sherlock on Mycroft’s mobile over breakfast. What a drama queen. Some things would never change.

_Hey Fatty,_

_Have read the Times. I said protect not torture. Married? How charmingly old fashioned. I assumed our friend would have preferred exile to the wilds of Oklahoma to your scintillating company. Has her gag reflex subsided? Someone shooting at me, must dash._

Mycroft’s response was brief and to the point.

_Brother-mine,_

_You have caused us no end of worry. Stop messing about, finish your business and come home. Married life suits me, thank you very much. It also suits our mutual friend who seems to have taken quite a shine to me and my castle walls.  You are in our thoughts daily. Be careful._

Molly laughed, relieved that Sherlock was still amongst the living and just as caustic as ever. She hoped that no one was really shooting at him.  His message was amusing but did it carry a current of some other meaning?  Was he angry or did he approve of the plan? One thing was certain, he was not yet aware of her pregnancy nor was he privy to the more personal details of their lives as of yet. Mycroft had sent a teasing response but just how much would Sherlock read between the lines? The brothers were spooky in their ability to read each other. What would Sherlock make of Mycroft’s message other than that he was protecting her? Not much she hoped as their lives were complicated enough as they stood now. He was alive and for now that was all that mattered.

Mycroft was a bit less enthused at his brother’s snarky message but also relieved that they had finally heard from him.  The trail on William Scott was still cold and updates from Anthea had been few and far between.  He had been monitoring her performance at the office and all seemed to be going well.  She had promoted a tall, ginger haired young man from the ranks to be her PA and they were working through their differences and becoming a team.  All was as it should be except for the fact that William Scott was still a mystery.

Mycroft stopped wool gathering and glanced at Molly. She looked rested after a long night’s sleep. He had risen at 5:00 AM, dressed and left her sleeping. She had come down to breakfast at 7 and had some color in her face for the first time in weeks. He too slept well after filing Sherlock’s text in the back of his mind and focusing on the steady rhythm of Molly’s breathing. In spite of his spinning mind, just her soothing presence so close to him had calmed him and made it possible for him to shut down his thought processes and rest. Meditation had not worked but Molly Hooper had? Life was strange indeed.

Molly was in an efficient mood this morning. She had already eaten and had a small stack of papers in front of her held down by a cup of tea. “My bank called and the sale of mum’s house closes today. Also, it’s time to go shopping for baby furniture and I was wondering if you would like to meet me at the bank and then come with me shopping? Perhaps we can have lunch out as well?”

Mycroft raised his eyebrows at this sudden flush of energy. Was he being managed just like a real husband? If so, how amusing. “Certainly, my dear, is there anything else I can do for you?”

Catching the smile in his voice Molly looked up at him, sighed and gave him a wry grin. “I know, I’m managing and I’m sorry. I’m sure I can handle these things all on my own but I would feel better if you were at the closing. I know that it’s just a house and my mum would have wanted me to sell it but it’s still hard. Also, I thought you might enjoy helping me pick out the nursery things?”  She looked at him uncertainly, her former confidence waning.

Mycroft laughed, leaned over the table and squeezed her hand. “Stop looking so worried. I rather enjoyed being managed, especially by one so charming as you.” He paused and his face grew serious. “I would be glad to accompany you to the bank and then shopping. I apologize for teasing you. I know you miss your mother and that signing the papers may be difficult. It will do you a world of good to focus on getting ready for the baby.”

******

The closing had gone smoothly and though Molly had felt qualms about letting the property go, she felt nothing but relief after it was over. The bankers were efficient with the papers, all the proper signatures and notarizations had been obtained and soon she and Mycroft were standing in the lobby waiting for the car. The cheque had been deposited and after the baby was born, Molly would set up a small trust for the child with some of the funds.  The balance of the estate would go towards the improvement of a small neighborhood park near her mum’s house.  Molly had discussed plans with the district council and they would be pleased to receive the funds and agreed to Molly’s request for the placement of a memorial bench in remembrance of Helen and Gavin Hooper. It wasn’t much but just thinking about it made Molly feel better. Even though her parents were gone, their names would be seen in a place of beauty and joy, filled with the laughter of children and the sighs of courting lovers. She hoped they were together somewhere and at peace.

The car drew up to the curb and Mycroft preceded her, holding the door open as she passed through it into a glorious day. The sun was shining and Molly looked up at the beautiful blue sky as they crossed a wide plaza to the car. They were going to lunch at a small café near Mycroft’s club and would then proceed to go shopping in the same area where she had purchased her maternity clothes with Mrs. Carlton. Maybe she could even talk Mycroft into buying some casual wear she thought, glancing at his elegant but totally buttoned up ensemble. She didn’t really want to change him but thought it would be agreeable for him to relax a bit when at home.

The driver came around the side of the car to open the door for her when Molly heard an odd sound and watched in horror as part of the young man’s face was blown off and blood and grey matter exploded towards her. Molly felt moist droplets hit her face and heard a high thin noise as her breath escaped her, a precursor to a scream. She heard more muffled shots and saw bullet holes starring the car windshield and impacting the front door. Only a second had passed when Mycroft was on her, grabbing her hand, dragging her behind the rear of the vehicle, pushing her to the ground and crouching in front of her protectively. Their security detail snapped out of their anonymity into place around them, guns drawn and all eyes on the buildings around them. Silence reigned and then all hell broke out on the street as bystanders bolted, women screamed and a second black car pulled up to the side of the first. Keeping his head low and staying between Molly and the line of buildings, he opened the back door of the car and quickly passed her in while visually checking the driver’s identity. He knew the driver well and his faced relaxed somewhat as he addressed Molly, face white as chalk and whose control was starting to waiver.

“Mycroft…” She cried, grasping his wrists not wanting to let him go.

He spoke calmly and exactly. “Alan will take you home. I know him well and he will deliver you safely.  I must stay until the police and Anthea have time to get here. I will call Mrs. Carlton and let her know you are on your way.” He took her face in his hands, her hands still locked onto him, looked levelly into her frantic eyes. “You are all right, Molly. You are safe, the baby is safe and as soon as I get home, we will discuss our options. The residence is on lock down and only you and I will be allowed access.  I will call or text later with an update.” He leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on her forehead before breaking their contact. “Try to stay calm and I will be home as soon as I can.”

He closed the door and caught a glimpse of her pale face as the car pulled out into traffic. Her hand was on the window and she looked terrified.  Mycroft turned away and his face became a mask of cold fury. He could feel his rage rising and his breath quicken as he strode past the body of his driver to the middle of the wide plaza, the innocent blue sky and empty windows of the surrounding buildings mocking him. He carefully studied the scene. Nothing, there was nothing.

******

The watcher laughed silently from the shadows of a nearby building as the great Mycroft Holmes mentally imploded in the middle of the empty plaza. The pressure was getting to him and his obvious devotion to the Hooper woman was clouding his judgement.  Silly, silly boy, why was he so besotted with this nothing of a woman? Well, it wouldn’t be long now and Molly Hooper and her bastard would be cold in the grave. Not quite yet though.  All the players were not yet in place and timing would be paramount. They would all suffer. Yes, they would all suffer the agony of a hell on earth. In the meantime, the watcher would watch, waiting for just the right moment to unleash a nightmare.

******

Anthea paced up and down in a small meeting in the bank which had been commandeered as a temporary field office. Mycroft sat at one end of a table and Anthea’s new PA, Alex, had joined them late and sat at the other end tapping away on his mobile and watching Anthea and Mycroft out of the corner of his eye. Several Scotland Yard staff and some of Anthea’s people milled around the car and the now covered body of his driver. Others were canvassing the surrounding buildings in hope of finding at least one witness.

Anthea spoke and her voice was clipped. “It appears it was a lone gunman shooting from an unoccupied office in the historic building located across the plaza. The building is undergoing renovation and is largely unoccupied. A double hung window that had been painted shut showed signs of being forced open and then closed. The security guard saw and heard nothing. Large caliber shells left on the floor from a high powered rifle matching the slugs recovered from the car.” She paused and gave Mycroft a pointed look. “They shot the driver as a warning. Whoever it was could have easily picked you off and Miss Hooper as well. However, they spared you both for some reason.” She looked paused in her pacing and gave him a piercing look. “What are these people playing at?”

Mycroft looked at her coldly. “Playing is hardly what I would call it. First William Scott in what should have been a highly secure building and now this very public threat in the heart of the London business district. A man is dead and we are still no closer to an answer.” His eyes narrowed. “Whoever they are, they have inside help. Why is it that you have found nothing after so many weeks? Is there a problem?”

Anthea visibly bristled at his insulation. “You know our work load, you designed it.  I have some of our best people on it and we need more time, more data and a few lucky breaks. Blaming me won’t bring your driver back or soothe your Miss Hooper.”

Mycroft rose and loomed over Anthea. Alex stopped tapping on his mobile and stiffened as if perceiving a threat. “I am well aware of the pressure on your office and am willing to wait for results a bit longer. However, my patience has been strained and will only last so long.” He raised an eyebrow and looked at her sternly. “Do you understand me?”

Anthea straightened her back and walked directly up to him, her face just inched from his. “Are you threatening me? Do you think I don’t know how to do my job?”

“I think you know how to do your job all too well.  My question is why aren’t you doing it?” Mycroft turned away, the interview over. He paused, his hand on the door. “Her name is Molly Holmes, Anthea, she is my wife and I will do everything in my power to protect her and her child. I expect you to do the same.” He inclined his head and let the door shut quietly behind him.

“Damn it all to hell.” growled Anthea as she resumed her pacing.


	26. Chapter 26

Chapter 26

Molly stared out the window of the car, no longer seeing the beauty of the day. Her heart had stopped galloping and her breathing had returned to normal. Her eyes were dry and her mind was racing. They would have to go to ground, the question was where? There was the residence and the Surrey house but she was unsure if either option would provide adequate safety. She had planned on returning to work next week but was sure that option was now off the table. Would she even have a job to go back to once this was all over? She had just started to feel almost normal again after her mum’s death but that normalcy was just an illusion. Whoever was after her, after them, would have to be dealt with before their lives would be their own again. She felt numb and just wanted it all to stop.

Mrs. Carlton was waiting as the car swept into the portico. Eyes alert and scanning, she opened the car door for Molly and quickly escorted her inside. Taking her first good look at Molly, her face paled and she became even more efficient. “Oh my poor dear, Mr. Mycroft called and told me what happened. Let’s get you upstairs and out of those clothes. It might be best if you take a shower.”

The two women went up the stairs and into Molly’s room. Mrs. Carlton swept past her into the walk-in closet to get her fresh clothes. Molly set her bag on a side table and caught a glimpse for herself in the mirror. What she saw made her stop and stare. Her once pristine clothes were spotted with blood and there was blood and brain tissue streaking her face. Her eyes looked like bruises and the happy woman who had left the residence this morning was gone, a pale waif standing in her place. Her numbness started to fade as a tide of rising anger took its place. Her eyes sparked and she started to rip at her clothing, physically ridding herself the horror of this afternoon.

All she had wanted was to get through closing and spend a peaceful day with Mycroft shopping for baby furniture. Didn’t she deserve that?  Didn’t she get to have a normal pregnancy and normal life? Wasn’t it bad enough she had just lost her mum? She grabbed her robe off her bed and wrapped it around her just as Mrs. Carlton emerged from the closet, fresh clothes on her arm.

Mrs. Carlton looked at her and spoke an approving voice. “Good, you be angry. You deserve to be angry. Some wretch is out there plotting against you and threatening your life. Don’t you go blaming yourself just because you helped Mr. Sherlock. You did not bring this on yourself.”

Molly looked at her, said nothing and tears finally started to fall.  Mrs. Carlton hesitated for a moment but then stepped forward and took Molly in her arms. “There, there now, my sweet girl.  You just cry it out now. A good cry, a shower, some tea and some food will help. Here, take these clothes and get you into the bath. I will have tea and a light lunch waiting for you when you come out.”

Molly did as instructed and stood in the warm shower for almost twenty minutes, scrubbing the afternoon from her body and breathing deeply of the moist freesia scented steam. She emerged pink and warm and wrapped her white robe around her. She was not in the mood to get dressed quite yet. She toweled her hair, ran a wide tooth comb through its length and emerged from the bath in her robe to the comforting smell of jasmine tea and vegetable soup.      

Mrs. Carlton was sitting in one of the side chairs carefully watching Molly as she sat and fixed a cup of tea. Molly met her eyes and spoke for the first time since entering the residence. “Thank you, Mrs. Carlton. I will be all right. Mycroft and I will figure something out once he gets home. I appreciate your care.” She paused briefly to think. “I know that you have concerns about us. Please know that the new sleeping arrangement is more for comfort than anything else. That comfort is allowing us both to sleep better and manage our stress more effectively. I for one am grateful that Mycroft has been so open and willing to share himself with me. I need him, you know, and in a way he needs me and the little one as well. Yes, we are taking a risk with both of our hearts and can’t know what will happen when Sherlock comes home. Yes, there is a possibility we could hurt each other deeply and irrevocably but we need each other right now and it’s worth the risk.  Please try to understand even if you don’t approve.”

“It’s not that I don’t approve, Miss Molly. It’s just that things are so unsettled with your mum’s passing, the baby, the marriage and these horrific threats. No one will rest easy until whoever is after you is neutralized. How could I help but worry for the both of you? I see the way Mr. Mycroft looks at you and it’s gone far past concern and protectiveness. He loves you, my girl, and he will love that little baby you carry just as he loved Mr. Sherlock when they were young. You love him too but you are torn between him and Sherlock. Nothing will be resolved between you two until Sherlock comes home and god only knows when that will be.” She sighed and rose to leave. “Why don’t you try to get some rest. I’m sure Mr. Mycroft will be home soon.” She patted Molly on the shoulder and turned to go.

“I do love Mycroft, Mrs. Carlton, and that love is worth the risk of what may come later. We need to live now as none of us knows what the future holds. Think of that poor young man this afternoon. His life was over before it even had a chance to really begin. It could well have been me or Mycroft. I can’t pass up the chance to love him the way he deserves to be loved, I just can’t.”

“There, there, my girl, I understand, I really do. Now why don’t you go lie down and get some rest. I will wake you in time for dinner if Mr. Mycroft is late. Sleep well.” Mrs. Carlton went out the door leaving it ajar.

Molly stood wearily, all her energy of the morning gone. She let her hand slide down the curve of her belly and willed the baby to move again. Nothing, the little one must be fast asleep. Time to do the same, she thought. She rose, stretched her back and crossed the hall. She would wait for Mycroft in their room; the room directly adjacent to the future nursery. She smiled briefly thinking of getting things ready for the baby. Her life might be uncertain but the baby would be here in less than four months. Please god let me live that long, she thought, as she crawled into the bed still wearing her bathrobe, clothes forgotten on the end of the bed and was soon asleep.

******

She woke in the late afternoon and lay on her side watching the play of light and shadow on the far wall of the bedroom. She turned over and started when she saw Mycroft, slumped in a side chair near the bed. His face was weary and it seemed obvious that he had been watching her for a long time. She met his eyes and there was little response. This was not good at all.

Her voice was soft when she spoke. “What’s wrong? It’s been a wretched day but we’ve been through wretched days before.” She crawled out of bed dragging a light blanket with her. She stood in front of him for a moment and then slipped into his lap, her arms around him murmuring low comfort. He leaned his head into hers and his arms crept around her, softly at first and then tighter.

“I could have lost you today. Just a slight change in trajectory and it would have been you. I can’t lose you now, I just can’t.” His voice caught in his throat, he stroked her hair and kissed her softly. “My darling girl, I love you so.”

She returned his embrace, murmuring quiet reassurances in his ear.  “I love you too and I’m sure we’ll find a way through this together. We have each other – that’s all that matters.”

Their eyes met and an unspoken desire passed between them. He kissed her again, deeper this time, and she pressed herself against him, caressing him through his clothes and feeling the hot urgency of his erection against her thigh. Her robe started slipping, granting him free access to every part of her. She moaned as he cupped her breast and pulled her even closer. She drew back slightly and looked into his face. There was no need to talk any more - they both wanted this.

Mycroft rose and crossed to the door and locked it, discarding his jacket along the way. Molly sat on the edge of the bed watching him as he removed his vest, his cuff links, and his tie and sat briefly to remove his socks, his eyes never leaving hers. He walked up to her, reached out to touch her face and then fell to his knees, sliding between her knees and looking up into her face. She kissed him again and slowly started to unbutton his shirt. She slipped his braces off his shoulders, then his shirt and kissed his pale shoulder unevenly dotted with freckles. Her hand slipped down the hair of his chest to the tab of his trousers. She made quick work of the intricate fastening and gently drew down the zip. He sighed and closed his eyes as the trousers slid down his hips and she took him into her hand. “Oh, my sweet wife…”

“Come to bed now” she whispered, her voice low. She slipped off her robe and gracefully slid between the sheets. He rose, finished removing his trousers and slid in beside her. Skin, she thought, so much skin… He kissed her senseless and once she was ready, he moved behind her, one hand in front between her legs and one holding her hip. “This way may be easier for you.” He purred in her ear he slipped gently into to her from behind. So tight, so warm, so wet. He moved slowly at first teasing her with his fingers. He allowed her to set the pace and soon she was pushing him into her, her breadth coming in rapid bursts. She felt nothing but his hands on her and him filling her completely and when it happened, her toes curled and her body exploded in a pleasure so pure that all coherent thought fled and she arched into him with a soft cry. He followed close behind, clasping her hips and thrusting into to her, his breath harsh in her ear.

They lay quietly for a brief time, him nuzzling the back of her head and kissing her neck. Slowly their breath normalized and their bodies eased apart. She turned to face him and ran her hand up his body, relishing the intimacy of the touch. She looked up into his eyes. “I never want you to stop doing that to me. I love you, Mycroft Holmes.”

He kissed her and pulled her to him. “I love you too.”

Silence fell as they held each other, speaking only through their closeness. Yes, they would find a way.


	27. Chapter 27

Chapter 27

Time spun out and before Molly knew it she was nine months pregnant and the baby was due any day. She felt huge but in reality she had had gained very little weight; enough to be healthy but that was all. She felt ungainly and her coordination, never very good to begin with, had gotten worse as her center of gravity had shifted. She was very careful on stairs and anywhere there might be a trip hazard.

She was in her sitting room on a rainy afternoon, working on a particularly difficult edit on a conference paper.  She was now the invisible pathologist as her colleagues only saw her submissions. It was too chancy to risk presenting in person so she was being represented at the conferences by a woman colleague from Italy.  They were now working on a joint paper via e-mail and it had turned out to be great fun.

Security had tripled briefly after the shooting of their driver four months ago but as no new threats emerged, the level dropped. It was still higher than normal but not high enough for Molly to feel like she was in prison. The relatively care free days when she had first come to the residence were over but she and Mycroft still managed to find small joys in the midst of heavy security. She could go out but it was a rare thing for her to do so alone.  Either Mycroft or Mrs. Carlton was with her at all times when she left the residence she could now see the extra security everywhere they went.  It had been quiet but it was far from over.

They had finally managed to get out and buy furniture for the nursery, albeit at dawn by special appointment before the shops officially opened. They had chosen a neutral natural wood set with a crib, a changing table, a small dresser and a glide rocker with wide flat arms suitable for nursing. In spite of Molly’s prediction the child would be a girl, the sex of the child was still uncertain, so neutral was the best choice. The room had been painted a pale green and Molly had an artist friend come in (after she passed some heavy duty security screens) to paint a pastoral scene similar to the country around the Surrey house. Sheep browsed, cows grazed, a fox peaked out from behind a tree and a myriad of local birds dotted the trees. It was lovely, peaceful and sophisticated enough that it would transition well as the child grew up.  Molly loved it and Mycroft, though reluctant at first, had also been charmed.

There had been no further word from Sherlock but Molly expected that to change as soon as the baby was born and the announcement hit the Times. He could count and she was sure he would know exactly who the biological father was soon enough. The Holmes parents had been up from Surrey several times. They had been very kind to Molly and having them visit made things seem a bit more normal as she was still missing her mum.  She had grown quite close to Emma Carlton and it would be her that accompanied them to the hospital when the time came. Emma, as Molly had come to call her, was like a second mother and the two women had grown quite close.

Going back to work had proved to be an impossibility and so after her three conference papers were accepted to two major pathology meetings in Europe and one in America, Molly had started work on a book. She missed the action in the morgue but she had larger concerns now than her professional needs. She might return one day to Bart’s or some other lab but for now she had let it go.

Mycroft had been accompanying her to her doctor visits and holding her hand, he had seen the first ultrasounds and they both watched in wonder at the movement of small limbs and the rapidly beating heart. They had mutually agreed that Mycroft was too high strung to attend childbirth classes and so Molly attend with Emma. It was Emma Carlton who would hold her hand and coach her at the hospital while Mycroft waited nearby while the major action took place. Not his usual operational style but they had both agreed that it was for the best. He had been very agreeable to all her plans but had insisted that she give birth at a private birthing center not from the residence. It was located just on the edge of the government owned zone and had both cutting edge technology and high security. Its atmosphere was home like and pleasant and she wouldn’t have to travel so far to get home afterwards. Her doctor had agreed to the condition, the facility was toured and met with Molly’s approval but only after a stern warning to Mycroft that under no circumstances would CCTV be allowed in the delivery room. Preparing for the birth had proven to be far more complicated than she had ever dreamed. What would their lives be like after the baby was born?

Mycroft had been solicitous and protective after the shooting but had slowly relaxed as the months wore on. They settled into a domestically pleasant routine and now that the sexual tension between them had broken, their intimacy deepened and Molly had never been so happy. She had come to know him very well and could read him almost as well as he could read her. She reveled in his body as he reveled in hers and though the pregnancy had presented some challenges there was no stopping them once they got started. She had grown to love him even more as they negotiated the challenges that face every expecting couple as well as the unknown nature of their future. She felt married to him and she loved how it made her feel. It gave her peace to know that almost every day her last moments before sleep would be holding his hand, smelling his wonderful scent and kissing him good night.

 


	28. Chapter 28

Chapter 28

When the first labor pains came, they hit her like a freight train. She was almost ten days overdue but the doctor had checked and the baby was under no stress.  Should that fact change, they would soon induce. She had been having small contractions all day but that was not out of the ordinary as she had experienced at least some every day for the last two weeks. The wave of pain that hit her now was far from a small contraction.

She had been in process of cleaning her desk when the first contraction hit and it stopped her in her tracks. Unable to move very well, she leaned against the desk and moaned. She would have to ride this one out and try to get to the call button near the door. Emma was downstairs attending to dinner and Mycroft was out at a meeting with Anthea and her PA. Lousy timing she thought to herself as the first contraction faded and she made it to the call button. She leaned against the doorframe to wait.

I thought the first time out this was supposed to start slowly she thought, as another contraction ripped through her. She could hear Mrs. Carlton on the stairs and just as the older woman reached her, Molly heard a small pop and was instantly drenched.

“Oh my dear, your water has broken. How are you feeling?” Mrs. Carlton reached out and took her by the elbow towards the loo. Molly spoke through clenched teeth. “Very strong contractions less than ten minutes apart. I think we had better get to the birthing center soon as I don’t think this baby is going to wait long.”

They got Molly quickly changed into dry clothes and Mrs. Carlton keyed her mobile. “It’s time, Mr. Mycroft. No, we can’t wait as things seem to be progressing rather quickly.  I will have Alan help Miss Molly down the stairs and a car is waiting. We will meet you at the birthing center.”

Molly gestured for the mobile and Mrs. Carlton gave it to her. “Yes, I’m fine but these contractions hurt like a bastard, I don’t know if I can handle eight hours of this. Oh crap, here comes another. I will see you soon. Love you.”

A small bag had been packed and Mrs. Carlton grabbed it as the driver, Alan, bounded up the stairs. He took Molly’s arm but when it became apparent that she could not walk during a contraction, he made a snap decision and swept her up in his arms.

“Excuse me, Mrs. Holmes, but there is no other way. I do beg your pardon.” He stuttered turning a bright shade of red as he hurried down the stairs with Molly held firmly against him with Mrs. Carlton following close behind.

“Quite…Ouch! …all right, Alan. Oh bugger that hurt. Can’t be helped can it? Thanks…” She had a hard time getting words out and felt a tide of rising panic. Should this be happening this fast? All her childbirth classes had prepped her for slow going and this was like a drag race. She only hoped she would make it to the birthing center in time.

They swept out the door and a car was indeed waiting under the portico. Alan placed her gently in the back seat while at the same time scanning the street and making sure the car was secure. Mrs. Carlton eased in beside Molly and they were off. She thought of Mycroft, thought of Sherlock and thought of her mum. How excited they all would be right now. She smiled in delight but within seconds another contraction came on wiping the smile off of her face. It was even stronger than before. How could women bear doing this? Hell with natural childbirth, she wanted good drugs and as soon as possible. She felt like she was being ripped apart and tears leaked from the corner of her eyes.

Mrs. Carlton held her hand, focused on Molly’s face and breathed with her through the contractions. They were coming on even closer together now and it was a huge relief when they pulled up to the birthing center and a nurse with a wheel chair was waiting for them. Alan, his initial embarrassment gone, swept her from the back seat and made for the chair and nurse

“Thank you, Alan. You’re wonderful.” Molly leaned in and quickly gave him a peck on the cheek. His face was instantly on fire and all he could do was mumble a yes, mam, thank you mam, set her down and watch after her she was swept in through the double doors with the nurse and Mrs. Carlton. He breathed a sigh of relief as he got back in the car. Getting shot at was one thing but this giving birth stuff was pure hell.

******

Mycroft’s mobile rang at the worst possible moment. He and Anthea were having heated words again and he was heartily tired of it. He just did not understand why their case was going nowhere. Nose to nose, the air fairly crackled with the tension between them. Her PA looked almost ready to faint

“Damn it!” snarled Mycroft and lifted his mobile to his ear. The color drained out of his face as he listened. His voice modulated with concern. “All right, I will leave right now. She wants to talk to me?” There was a brief pause. “Are you going to be all right? So sorry, darling. Yes, I understand. I will be there as soon as I can. I love you.”

He looked at Anthea, fear and wonder fighting for supremacy on his face, his anger at Anthea forgotten. “The baby is coming. Oh my god, the baby is coming. I have to go.”

Anthea eyes narrowed and she spit her next words at Mycroft. “What has happened to the great Mycroft Holmes? You used to be so cunning, so sharp, so on your game. That little bitch has made you soft and I will ever forgive her for it.”

Mycroft stopped in his tracks and narrowed his eyes. He loomed over her, every inch the predator. The danger that came off him in waves was palpable in the room. His voice was quiet but deadly serious. “You have gone too far this time, Anthea. If I were a lesser man I would slap you. Perhaps you are the one who has changed. Could you focus some of that vitriol into finding who has been shooting at us instead of insulting my wife? We will settle this but not now. However, be warned, I am not quite as toothless as you perceive me to be.”

He nodded to her and swept out of the room, the door slamming shut behind him. Anthea stood as if struck, a single tear escaping and running down her face. She turned and slammed the top of the table with the flat of her hand. The sound exploded in the small room and her PA flinched and tried to look as small as possible.

She growled in frustration and anger. “You heard the man, get to work. You know what to do. If you need me I will be in my office. And, shut your mouth, you look like a hooked trout.” She too left the room, slamming the door behind her.

Her PA’s faced instantly flattened as she left the room but without pausing or thinking he turned to do her bidding.

******

Molly had never felt so out of control in her life. The good news? After six tries, the IV in her hand was finally in and taped down. It took all her self-control not to slap the nervous nurse silly. The bad news? The nurse told her it was too late for drugs as she was almost fully dilated and though she wanted to push, she couldn’t as her damned doctor wasn’t here yet. All she could do was puff along with Emma and try to resist what her body was telling her to do.

She and Mrs. Carlton were riding the waves of her contractions together and if it hadn’t been for Emma Molly would have been shrieking like a mad woman and cursing out the birthing room staff. Where the hell was Mycroft? She wanted to see him at least for a moment before the doctor arrived and everything hit the fan.

Just as she was about to blow her top, her doctor sauntered in tricked out in sweats and trainers, looking like she had just rolled out of bed. Very casually, she strolled over to Molly, took a quick look, nodded to the nurse and said calmly, “She can push. I will go suit up and will be right back.  Almost there, Molly, it will go quite quickly now. “

Molly ground her teeth together and narrowed her eyes. Almost there, my ass. She could push now indeed. She was just about to shriek at the doctor’s retreating back when she was hit by yet another powerful contraction and time elongated. This had better be worth it she thought as she gave in to her body and started to push.

******

The car screamed up to the front of the birthing center and had barely stopped when Mycroft leapt out and was through the double doors. There was a brief stop as his credentials were checked and the staff escorted him to a waiting room. A nurse briefed him on what was happening in the birthing room and told him that Molly had been asking after him. He was torn as they had agreed he would not intercede in the process and would wait outside. Good Christ, what should he do? He nodded to the nurse and she gave him a mask and gown to put on over his suit.

Why was he so uncertain? Perhaps because just through the double doors he was now facing was the rest of his life? With just him and Molly, he had reached an equilibrium of sorts - a delicate balance between the new life and the old - but he knew that the reality of the child would change everything. I for a penny, he thought as he made the final decision and pushed through the doors.

Organized chaos greeted him as the nurse escorted him into the room. Just as he rounded the corner from sitting room area into the actual birthing room he saw a flurry of activity, Molly’s doctor, Mrs. Carlton and several staff and heard the distinctive cry of a newborn. The afternoon light muted by a soft rain lit the scene. The sound of the baby cut him to the depths of his soul, Sherlock was a father and the next generation of the Holmes line was waiting to join the family. 

The doctor turned and seeing him she smiled behind her mask. “Congratulations on the birth of a daughter, Mr. Holmes. Would the father like the honor of cutting the cord?”

Mycroft paled behind his own mask but nodded and stepped up to the side of the bed. Molly saw him at last and breathed “Thank goodness you are here. We have a daughter, isn’t she the most precious thing you have ever seen?” Mycroft wasn’t quite sure about precious but he reached out to stroke Molly’s face and kissed her forehead before turning to the doctor and taking the scissors from her hand. The baby had quieted but looking down at her blood streaked form he felt a surge of familial protectiveness and wonder as he cut the cord connecting the future to the past just as millions of human beings had done so before him.

“Time to clean this young Miss up, get her weight and length and make sure her airways are fully cleared.  It won’t take much time at all and we will her right back to you. Congratulation to the both of you and I am sorry I was late, Molly. I guess this little one just did not want to wait to join the party. Do we have a name yet?”

Molly looked at Mycroft and he nodded back at her. “Yes, her name is Avery Helen Holmes.”

 


	29. Chapter 29

Chapter 29

The center staff asked Mycroft to leave the room for a bit as Molly needed stitches and clean up as well. He kissed her softly and she held his face close to hers.  “I am so happy. I love you. We have a daughter, Mycroft, my mum would have been so happy.  We’ll call your folks as soon as they bring her back to us.”

Mrs. Carlton took Mycroft’s arm and they went out to the sitting area where the staff had placed some tea. Mycroft removed his gown and mask and they both sat down while Mrs. Carlton poured. 

Studying him, Mrs. Carlton smiled widely at him. “She did well and only cursed Sherlock a bit during the fray.  The air turned somewhat blue and the staff seemed puzzled why she wasn’t cursing you instead. It was quite funny and I am sure Miss Molly will think so too after a while. Poor Alan almost had a heart attack carrying her down the stairs at the residence. He might be in line for a small appreciation at the appropriate time.”

Mrs. Carlton paused and her face became serious. “I am so proud of you, my boy. You have done exactly the right thing and though the future is still uncertain, you and Miss Molly will give this new Holmes the best start possible. I know I have had my doubts but they were based mostly on fear for the both of you. Please know that I will support you both with my whole heart no matter what the future may bring.” Her eyes misted and she quickly took a sip of her tea. “Mustn’t make a scene and embarrass you.”

Mycroft handed her his handkerchief and patted her on the knee. “Thank you, Emma. Avery will need you as well as your grown up charges.  Who else will she have to make her lonely confessions to in the kitchen? You may think I may not remember, but your constant presence and consistency in my life gave me an anchor to hold onto when things went badly with Sherlock.  Never doubt how important you are to me and the Holmes family, Emma.”

Mrs. Carlton’s eyes again welled up and she wave off his words. “Do stop, Mr. Mycroft, or I shall cry. Mustn’t show red eyes to Miss Molly today of all days. The baby is here and it’s time to rejoice.”

 

******

Rejoice they did. Avery came back from her first sponge bath bright eyed and curious. When the nurse handed her over for nursing, Molly felt her heart swell with an irrational love for this small and amazing creature. She was a tiny baby with fair skin and a startling shock of dark red hair. Her eyes were a brilliant and changeable blue and Molly was sure that though might change color after her first few weeks, that they were Sherlock’s eyes. She was perfect from the tips of her toes to her fine, delicate hands.

It took a few minutes but both she and Avery had gotten the hang of this nursing thing down and though Molly’s milk had still not fully come in, the nurses reassured her that it would in the next day or so. Mycroft had not left their side and Molly’s heart seized when after their first nursing session; the nurse had handed off the sleeping Avery to Mycroft. He had stiffened at first but then his natural curiosity got the best of him and he studied her intently. The contrast of the tiny baby and a burping towel over his shoulder against his three piece suit was just too cute for words and she snapped several photos with her mobile. Who one earth would believe that Mycroft Holmes could be cute without photos to prove it?

There had been many photos taken by Mrs. Carlton and the nurses of the three of them as well as just Molly and Avery. Molly grinned widely as she scrolled through the pictures with Mycroft looking over her shoulder.  It was time to share their joy and start e-mailing and calling their friends and family.

She was feeling relieved after her whirlwind birthing experience. She had some stitches and the doctor had reassured her that all would be well within ten days or so.  She had become almost instantly voracious after the birth and when Mycroft asked her what she wanted to eat she had replied, “Steak, a big steak and chips and sticky pudding.” She also really wanted a pint but knew that she couldn’t have one until after she was done breast feeding.  Oh well, nothing was ever perfect and at least her appetite had returned. 

The Holmes parents were overjoyed and loved the photos. They would come up from Surrey as soon as they could after the new family had returned to the residence. John and Lestrade had come by, kissed Molly, left a stuffed bear for Avery and cautiously shook Mycroft’s hand while all the time wondering how the hell all this had happened.  Molly gently reminded John that he was to be the child’s godfather. Though neither she nor Mycroft were religious, they had both had the basic introduction to the Church of England and Avery would have the same. Both John and Greg had held Avery briefly, Greg grinning from ear to ear remembering the birth of his own girls and John more serious as he studied her alert face.

“She has Sherlock’s eyes and Mycroft’s coloring.” He said, looking sad. “He would have been so pleased for you, Molls. He would have been pleased for you too, Mycroft, though he may have teased you unmercifully at first. He would have made one hell of a fun uncle.” John shook his head and handed Avery off to Mycroft. She started to fuss and Mycroft instantly started to sway and talk softly to her, bringing her body up against his chest. Molly smiled as she watched the older Holmes seamlessly fall into his new parental role. Was the swaying thing hard-wired? Yes, Mycroft was a good husband and would be a very good father. She cut her eyes to John, who looked even sadder than before. “I feel so alone. Maybe it’s time to move out of Baker Street and start to live again. I know I have been drinking too much and my work has suffered. Time to move on, just like you lot have.”

Molly reached out and took John’s hand. “Yes, it is time for you to move on John and put Sherlock behind you. He loved you, you know, and I know he would have wanted you to be happy.” John patted Molly’s arm, nodded at Mycroft and he and Lestrade left them after a final peek at the now sleeping Avery.

“So much damage, Mycroft. Do you think it will ever be set right?” She reached for Avery who had started rooting against Mycroft’s shirt front. “Wrong parent, sweet girl, but I’m glad you’ve got the idea.” She expertly took the baby, turned her around and adjusted the blanket before putting her to the breast. Mycroft looked at them tenderly wondering if such behavior was hard wired.

Mycroft took her hand and looked out at the rain. “It will be hard when he returns and there will be hurt feelings and anger. But he is hard not to love in spite of himself and they will forgive him.” Mycroft looked thoughtful and a little sad. “I don’t know if he will ever forgive me. I have taken his place and though it was supposed to be a stop-gap measure, I cannot bear to think that I might lose you.” His hand tightened on hers and he stroked the side of Avery’s face with a gentle finger, not directly looking at either of them.

“It will be all right. You’ll see.” Said Molly, all her love for the both of them both showing in her face. She silently hoped that it would really be true.

******

The watcher stood in the rain under a ubiquitous black umbrella as John Watson and Greg Lestrade passed not ten feet distant and saw nothing. Stillness and camouflage made all the difference in this game. It would be soon now. The whelp had been born and dear Mycroft would fall in love yet again. Ah, the pain would be exquisite, finely tuned and never ending. One more piece was all that was needed and it would not be long.  What were months compared to the years of agony yet to come?  They would burn, all of them would burn.


	30. Chapter 30

Chapter 30

Their homecoming was jubilant and Molly was relieved to be back at the residence again. The staff at the birthing center had been lovely but there was nothing like coming home. Mrs. Carlton and Mycroft alternated feeding shifts so everyone got enough sleep and after two weeks the new family had settled into a comfortable routine.

Avery had settled right into the nursery and though Molly was still waking up a few times a night to feed her, Avery had accepted breast milk from a bottle so Mycroft could give Molly a break if needed. It was amusing indeed to find Mycroft gently telling Avery a story while he rocked and fed her in the middle of the night. His voice was soft and he held the child with great tenderness and care. These were the sweet, private moments that no photo could ever capture; the infinite love of a parent for a child.

Molly was glad to have Mycroft back in her bed as well as she had missed his nightly presence in the birthing center. She knew the small bed and roll away had been purposeful, to allow a new mother to rest and focus on bonding with her child, but she had missed his physical proximity none the less. When they went to bed on their first night back, Molly snuggled into him and felt herself relax completely. He was there with her, Avery was safe and healthy and all was well with her world. She knew intellectually it was an illusion but decided that she no longer cared. They would be cautious, they would plan and try to predict but not at the cost of giving up the love they had built over the past six months.

The birth announcement had been posted in the Times and another flood of cards and phone calls overwhelmed Molly. They had heard nothing further from Sherlock but were both certain he knew. The man could count, among other things, and he had to be wondering. Both she and Mycroft were cautious but as the months wore on, security was relaxed slightly and they both let down their guard. Mycroft once more talking to Anthea but their relationship was still strained and their conversations were short and all business. Molly felt badly about Anthea as she knew Mycroft was hurt and angered by their estrangement. Time and a breakthrough in the case might help things but Molly wasn’t sure.

The days flew by and soon Avery was smiling, holding her head up and actively watching the world. Every milestone was like a small miracle to Molly and when Avery started to babble, Molly found herself talking to her almost all the time when she was awake.  Mycroft had started reading to her and Avery listened raptly to his voice when not trying to grab the book from his hands. At six months her babbling became more focused and she responded to them in jabber if they asked her a question or talked to her. She started turning over early and it was a toss-up as to whether she would walk or talk first. Mycroft predicted talk and Molly predicted walk but it was still too early to tell.  She was standing unsteadily at eight months and started to point and jabber if she wanted something. She did indeed talk first and Molly conceded in good natured defeat to Mycroft when one morning Avery looked up into Mycroft’s face and said “Da” very clearly. Mycroft’s face beamed down at her and Molly felt an overwhelming rush of love for them both. Avery favored her biological father with her bright blue eyes and dark lashes and eyebrows. However, her dark red curls and freckles favored Mycroft and no one suspected that the child was not his.

The staff all loved Avery and took turns watching her and playing with her. Mrs. Carlton had assumed the role of nanny and spent almost as much time with Avery as Molly and Mycroft.  The child was far from an angel and had quite the temper when provoked. She terrorized Toby who had quickly learned to avoid her grasping hands. Also, once she started crawling and then partially walking, she was very fast and could be a handful. Childproofing the residence and then the Surrey house had been quite the chore. 

Avery loved the Surrey house and delighted in the gardens and fields as well as the livestock that was kept on the farms surrounding the estate. On sunny afternoons when they were down from London, Mycroft could often be seen with Avery looking seriously at a sheep over a stile while making baaing noises and explaining very precisely to Avery the nature of the wooly ruminant. They would come home, dusty or muddy depending on the weather with Avery cheerfully chanting “Shep! Shep!”  or “Baaa!  Baaa!” She delighted and provoked them, drove them crazy with love and worry and drew them closer in their bond with each other.

As focused as they were on Avery, they were focused on each other as well. After Molly was fully recovered from childbirth and Avery was thriving, the couple made it a point to have what had been denied them in their rush to marry and protect Molly and they engaged in what could only be defined as courting. Evening would find them out on the garden swing, their arms around each other, talking quietly as dusk fell. Mycroft would surprise Molly with flowers and Molly would bake Mycroft cookies. They danced on the terrace in the moonlight and took long rambling walks through the countryside holding hands. Their lovemaking had resumed as soon as Molly had healed and they were not only well and truly married but crazy in love with each other.  Laughter and love rang through the halls of the residence and the Surrey house and though life was not perfect, Molly had never been happier.

On a lovely day at the Surrey house, Molly was downstairs in the library with Avery and Mycroft was working in his office. Mrs. Carlton was out shopping in the village and so they were alone in the house except for perimeter security. Molly was busily working on the second draft of her book and Avery was sitting on the floor playing with her toys and jabbering away. Molly would glance her way occasionally to make sure that Miss Avery had not gotten any fresh ideas for mayhem or hadn’t tried to make a break for it without her mother noticing. Molly had been working on a particularly difficult sub-section when she suddenly realized the room had gone dead silent. She looked up and what she saw turned her perfect afternoon upside down. Avery, toys forgotten, was standing, wavering slightly, near the door of the library looking curiously up into the shocked face of Sherlock Holmes. 

 


	31. Chapter 31

Chapter 31

Three things then happened simultaneously. Avery lost her balance and fell, unceremoniously, unto her diapered bottom and began to wail. Molly stood up so quickly the chair she was sitting in overturned and fell to the floor with a crash and the door to Mycroft’s office flew open, fear evident on his face.  Time stopped as the three adults looked at each other, confusion and shock on their faces. Molly was the first to recover and darted quickly over to Avery, her eyes still locked with Sherlock’s, and scooped her up.

“Shhh, now, Shhh, don’t cry now. Shhh, that’s my sweet girl. Everything’s all right.” Molly rocked Avery in her arms and her eyes flicked back and forth between Mycroft and Sherlock. “She not really hurt - she just hates it when she falls over like that. She is really quite the walker as long as she can hold onto things in between runs.” Good god, she was rattling, trying to fill the tense room with some sound. She fell silent, as did Avery, both carefully watching the brothers Holmes.

Mycroft spoke first. “Sherlock, how good to see you and pleasant of you to give some warning before showing up at our door unannounced and scaring us half to death.” Mycroft crossed the room to join Molly and Avery, facing Sherlock who still stood rigid in the doorway. Avery saw Mycroft coming, leaned towards him with a smile and raised her little arms. “Da…Da…” she said, her eyes now totally focused on Mycroft.  Mycroft took her from Molly, Avery put her arms around his neck and he kissed her soft cheek. Mycroft looked gravely at Sherlock. It was time for the truth to be told. “Sherlock, this is Avery Helen Holmes, your daughter.”

Sherlock, his face still blank, walked slowly up to them, never taking his eyes off of Avery. Avery’s little head cocked sideways as she looked at this new, interesting human. Sherlock raised his hand and Avery reached out and clutched his finger. Mycroft looked at his little brother and his heart breaking, he shifted Avery from his arms to Sherlock’s.  Avery looked up into Sherlock’s face and smiled and cooed. Sherlock smiled back and the light in his eyes matched that of the tiny girl in his arms. “Avery…” he said softly, looking at her in wonder. Upon hearing Sherlock’s beautiful voice for the first time in almost two years, Molly’s self-control broke and she started to weep. Weep in relief that Sherlock was finally home and safe and weep in pain for the hard choices that would now have to be made.

Mycroft nodded at Sherlock and turned to Molly. She looked into his eyes and saw despair and when he crossed to her, took her in his arms, kissed her gently on the forehead and then left the room, her heart broke as well. In an instant, the world they had constructed so carefully had spun off its axis. It was time to tell the story and once more make a plan. The only difference this time would be her heart belonged to another and yet the man that now stood before her was the father of her child.

She turned to face Sherlock, her tears still fresh on her face. “Welcome home, Sherlock. We need to talk.”

******

Several hours later, Molly sat alone in the library, Avery asleep in her arms.  They had talked the afternoon away, Molly had fed Avery and Sherlock had left to give her more time to think.  She rose and slowly walked up the stairs to put Avery down for the night. Of Mycroft there had been no sign but she knew he was in the house somewhere, waiting for her. She kissed her girl, left her in her crib and walked down to their bedroom at the end of the hall.

She opened the door and closed it softly behind her. The light from the setting sun reflected golden off of the ivory walls and illuminated Mycroft, who stood by the window looking down at the garden, his face heavy with grief.  She walked up behind him and put a hand on her shoulder. He turned and gathered her to him, his face close to her ear and his breathing ragged. He held her tightly and she didn’t move as his face slowly came down and he kissed her.  The kiss was hard and desperate and his arms tightened around her as he moved her backwards towards the bed. He pushed her down and was instantly on top of her, his eyes never leaving hers.

“You are mine…mine.” Mycroft growled in her ear as he held her down and kissed her passionately. She gave herself up to him, clutching him tightly, never getting close enough.  “Yes, I am yours. I will always be yours, Mycroft.  I love you past reason and will never leave you.”

They tore at each other’s clothing and cried out in unison as their bodies came together. It was rough and hot and quick and Molly could not get enough of him. He pushed himself into her and marked her with his teeth and lips. She met him thrust for thrust and afterwards, they lay in each other’s arms, exhausted by their lovemaking and the stress of the day. Tears leaked from the corners of Molly’s eyes as she held her husband close. “Oh Mycroft, what are we going to do?” He said nothing but his eyes told the truth. He was going to give her and Avery up and sacrifice their marriage.

“No” she whispered, now crying in earnest. “Please, Mycroft, no.” She clung to him and he held her and whispered to her how much he loved her until exhausted, she finally fell asleep. He gently separated himself from her arms and left the bed. He dressed and took one final look at her, asleep in the dim light, her face still marked by tears and the bed torn asunder by their lovemaking.  He loved her, he loved Avery and he loved Sherlock. He slipped her father’s ring from his finger and left it on the side table where she would find it in the morning.  It was now time to prove that love and let them go.

 


	32. Chapter 32

Chapter 32

Sherlock stood smoking and waited for his brother in the small folly not far from the country house. He knew Mycroft was coming just as certainly as Mycroft knew that Sherlock would wait for him. They had played here as children and as they grew up and grew apart this was where they would have their worst fights; trying to spare their mother and aunt the worse of their acrimony. The folly had not been used for some time and the paint on its Greek columns was peeling and faded and vegetation had started to tear at the structure. The honeysuckle that climbed its side gave off a sweet scent that reminded Sherlock of happier times when he and Mycroft roamed the fields collecting frogs and having adventures. Then they had grown up and grown distant, their aunt died and Mycroft bought the house and the life they had shared at Surrey house was gone. What had happened between them that drove them apart? Drug use, jail time and re-hab had all taken their toll and though Sherlock knew that he had been mostly responsible for the rift, he still resented Mycroft for his iron will and his efforts to control him.

He was just about to light another cigarette when Mycroft stepped out of the shadows, his eyes hooded and dangerous.  Sherlock said nothing but offered Mycroft a cigarette. Mycroft slid the proffered cigarette from the pack and Sherlock lit it for him.  The two brothers stood, shoulders hunched against the coolness of the night and smoked quietly. Neither spoke until the cigarettes were extinguished and the smoke had dispersed.

Sherlock looked piercingly at Mycroft. “You love her, don’t you?  You saved fair maiden from an unplanned pregnancy and an unknown threat, married her and gave her child a name. Very neat and well planned. But, the ice man melted and fell in love with the fair maiden and now the ice man is ready to fall on his sword to do the right thing. So like you, Mycroft, always wanting to be the hero.” Sherlock shook his head in disgust and flicked his dead cigarette butt into the bracken.

Mycroft looked sadly at his little brother. “That, Sherlock is none of your business. What is your business is that you are now a father and in spite of Anthea’s efforts, there is still someone out there trying to harm Molly. We need to work together to neutralize the threat. The enmity between us no longer matters. All that matters is Molly and Avery. Once we find and eliminate the threat, there will be time to sort all this out.”

Sherlock snorted and his next words were filled with disdain. “And what makes you think I want to sort it out? You have staked your claim, brother mine, and Molly is yours as is the child. She doesn’t want me, she never did except in her juvenile imagination. I don’t love her and she doesn’t love me. I was just using her. You can have her for all I care…”

Sherlock never had the chance to finish his sentence when Mycroft was on him, raw fury burning in his chest. “You god damned, selfish little bastard. How dare you! I have wanted to do this since you were eighteen years old.” Mycroft struck Sherlock’s face hard with his open hand and knocked him to the ground, straddling him while he pummeled him with closed fists letting all of his anguish and pain rain down on his little brother.

Sherlock took the beating for several long minutes but then grabbed his brother’s arms and they both stilled, panting in the night air. Sherlock looked up into to Mycroft’s eyes and smiled. “About time you let go of some of that rigid control. What has it been? Fifteen years at least since I last saw you blow up.  I had to know for sure, dear brother, just how much you loved Molly Hooper and my “niece”. I think you have adequately informed me of that fact. Now, let me up, you old fool, we have some rats to flush out and exterminate.”

Mycroft rolled off of Sherlock, turned on his back and panted at the sky. “You manipulative little bastard, why couldn’t have you just asked me outright?”

Sherlock sat up, felt his jaw for damage and looked thoughtfully into the night sky. “Because you would have persisted with the noble act and cut your own throat as well as that of Molly Hooper. The girl is mad for you, Mycroft.  You should have heard her talking about you this afternoon. It was sick making, really sick making.  Just the thought of you two together makes my skin crawl but there’s no accounting for taste.”

Mycroft got up and extended his hand to his brother. Sherlock took it and Mycroft pulled him up and the two brothers stood, face to face. Mycroft’s anger was spent and he looked with love at his little brother and his eyes blurred. Before Sherlock could pull away, Mycroft grabbed him by the neck and pulled him into a fierce embrace. He hissed into Sherlock’s ear, “You ever do that to me again and I swear you will not be able to walk for a month.”

Sherlock pushed him away and laughed. “I’d dearly like to see you try, fatty. I gave you that one, yes I did. Now, let’s get back to the house. You have probably worried the little wife with your heavy dramatics. You have some damage control to perform and we have plans to make. You go on, I need another cigarette and I will catch up”

Mycroft strode off into the night and Sherlock, now alone, lit up a third cigarette and looked at the stars, bright in night sky above Surrey. With no one watching him, he let his façade drop and his face was filled with pain. It was really for the best this way, he thought. I am a selfish bastard and though I love her she does not love me.  She loved Mycroft and there was no doubt in his mind about that after their talk this afternoon.  Her face, as it had always been, was as transparent as glass. Her eyes glowed as she spoke of Mycroft, the whole time twisting their grandmother’s diamond and emerald rings around her finger in nervousness. No doubt whatsoever. At least this way, he could be close to the child. Finishing his cigarette, he squared his shoulders and willed his face back into a semblance of normalcy. The decision had been made and he would not go back on it, he loved both Molly and Mycroft far too much. He would love the child too, he could tell just by looking into her bright eyes, so much like his. He looked up at the stars one more time. It would all be as it was supposed to be but right now there was work to do. He flicked his cigarette butt into the darkness and started back to the house.

******

Molly woke up, the room was dark and she was alone. She reached across to turn on the bedside lamp and immediately saw the ring on the side table.  Had Mycroft left her? Oh god, what would she do now?  She got up, wrapped herself in her robe, pocketed the ring and rushed down the hall to check on Avery trying very hard not to cry. Mrs. Carlton must have come home earlier as Avery was tucked up with her favorite blanket that had been downstairs earlier.  Molly stroked her daughter’s cheek as she slept and her tears, held in check before now, started to fall. 

She heard rapid steps outside the room and turned just as Mycroft came in, his clothes in a shambles with grass and earth stains on his knees. His eyes met hers and he went to her, whispering quickly as he crossed the room and took her into his arms “Sorry, so sorry. I panicked thinking that you and Sherlock should be together and I did the very thing I said I would never do, I left fully intending not to come back. I was wrong, Molly, so wrong.” He lifted her chin so she was looking into his face and wiped her tears away with his hand. She sniffled, then smiled and then started to weakly laugh in relief as he held her and kissed her.

“Come out in the gallery, we don’t want wake the baby.” She took his hand and they quietly left the nursery, Avery still sleeping sound, blissfully unaware of the drama playing out around her.

Standing at the top of the stairs, she stroked his beloved face with one hand. “You came back and that’s all that matters. I love you.” She reached into her robe pocket and withdrew her father’s ring. “You left something behind, Mr. Holmes, and I had better not see it off your hand again or there will be hell to pay.” She slipped the ring back on his finger and looked at him crossly.  “Oh Mycroft, don’t ever do that to me again. I need you, Avery needs you and I can’t imagine living without you.” She hugged him fiercely and then looked down at his clothes, a question on her face.  “What on earth have you been doing?”

Mycroft had the good grace to look embarrassed. “I had a little dust up with Sherlock but it’s all right now. He came out much worse than me and is downstairs cleaning up. You should go back to bed as it’s late as he and I are going to strategize on the William Scott case.” He back pedaled a bit as he saw Molly’s eyebrows come together in irritation. “We want your input as well, of course, but it will wait until morning. He is staying here at least through tomorrow and possibly the next day. Please, darling, we need some time together to start working this out.”

“Are you managing me, Mycroft Holmes?” Molly said, her eyes narrowing. Mycroft looked chagrined and Molly took pity on him.  “Go on and have fun with your brother. Just don’t smoke in the house and don’t let Sherlock start anything on fire. And, don’t stay up too late. I love you, you great goob. Leaving me for my own good…how can someone so smart be so stupid?” She kissed him one more time, pulling his face down to hers and went back down the hall to bed.

Mycroft watched her go and once more wondered at her patience and grace in dealing with him and Sherlock. The things they had both put her through over the years and yet she still loved the both of them.  He was both grateful and humbled by the depth of her love.

It was time to get to work, he thought as he turned and went down the stairs. Sherlock was waiting for him in his office. It would be good to get back in the game especially with his little brother at his side. Thank god Sherlock was home and the whole family was safe. Now to make sure it would stay that way.

******

“You’re sure?” Mycroft looked at Sherlock skeptically over a table laden with files and photographs.

“No, not completely sure but will know more when you and I have time to do some leg work in London.” His face was grim and his eyes sharply focused. “If what I suspect is true, there will be a lot of drama and people you care about may be hurt.”

“So be it.” said Mycroft. “I will do my utmost to act as a buffer. I may be semi-retired but I still have a lot of pull in certain circles. I will call in a few favors that have gathered quite a bit of interest over the years. There will be a small scandal, you will return in glory and life will go back to normal.”

“Normal… What is normal? I have been chasing all over Eastern Europe and Asia for two years and I have no idea what normal is any more. I’m now a father and you are married. I feel like I have come back to an alternate universe.” Sherlock paused and looked uneasy. “How is John really doing? I have heard that he took it pretty hard after the fall.”

“Drinking heavily and still in mourning for his best friend, I’m afraid. He finally moved out of Baker Street two months ago which was a healthy choice but he still hasn’t recovered. He is the godfather to your child, by the by. He rose above his innate dislike of me and stepped up for Molly and Avery. He made a very affecting speech and mentioned you several times. It was difficult for him but in the end he was happy for all of us. ”

Sherlock raised his eyebrows and shot a questioning look at Mycroft.

“No, he does not suspect who Avery’s real father is though he did notice you in her right away. Thank goodness she has my hair color and enough freckles to be convincing.” Mycroft looked at Sherlock and his face was grave. “He will be deeply hurt and may lash out Sherlock. There may be no going back to normal with John Watson.”

Sherlock looked uncomfortable and changed the subject. “Will Molly be willing to play her part?”

Mycroft nodded but he did not look happy. “She’s had two close calls but she will do anything to protect Avery. I wish it could be some other way but I have analyzed all other options and using her as a lure is still the best plan. I don’t like it, I don’t like it at all but I am sure she will insist.”

“There is a 90% chance we will succeed without anyone getting hurt, Mycroft, but there is still a risk. Are you sure?”

Mycroft grew angry and he raised his voice. “No, damn it, I’m not sure and I hate not being in control. I finally found someone who can tolerate me, love me, and I am going to put her directly into the line of fire. How do you think I feel, Sherlock? I feel like I am risking my whole world.” Mycroft sat and put his face in his hands. “I don’t know what I would do without her.”

Sherlock looked at his older brother with compassion. The ice man had finally fallen and fallen hard. He was happy for Mycroft but he did not envy his position. He too loved Molly Hooper and was loath to put her in any kind of danger. However, he saw no other way if they were to keep the element of surprise.

He walked up to Mycroft and put a hand on his brother’s shoulder. His voice was quiet when he finally spoke. “I will do everything in my power to keep her safe, I promise you. Trust me.”

The room fell silent and both men weighed the uncertainty of the future. Sherlock finally broke the silence, patting his brother on the back and heading for the door. “Come on, Mycroft, one more cigarette before bed. I’m sure Molly has rationed your fags so while I’m here, live a little.” Mycroft glared at him but rose and followed.

 


	33. Chapter 33

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was somehow deleted or never added. Apologies to all who have read the work without this chapter as I consider it to be an important "transition" in the story. It bridges Sherlock's absence and return and without it, the change seems very abrupt. Lesson learned? No random button pushing and check three times not twice during publication.

Chapter 33

“Mycroft, did you have to hit him that hard?” Molly was looking exasperated at the older Holmes after seeing the bruising and broken skin on Sherlock’s face. He would look like a mess for at least a week.

“Yes, I did have to hit him that hard. He finally provoked me to the point where nothing but a pummeling would do.  He has been asking for it for years and my only regret is that he played me into losing control. I am sure he will be insufferable about it for years.” Mycroft looked down his long nose at his brother in mock disgust.

They were sitting around the breakfast table, Avery in her high chair easting pieces of fruit and cereal off her tray and the rest of them drinking coffee. Avery had taken one grave look at Sherlock this morning and voiced what Molly had been thinking. “Owie…”

Sherlock grinned at Avery which if anything made his battered face look even worst. “Yes, Avery, it’s a big owie…” Turning his gaze on Mycroft, he leaned back in his chair and looked smug. “I intend on holding it over your head for as long as possible. I have taken photos to send to mummy once she knows I am back. She will not be amused.”

Molly looked at him in shock, finally coming to the realization that no one but them knew that Sherlock had returned. She was just about to query him about how he was going to break the news to his parents and John Watson when he saved her the trouble.

“Nothing for it but to come clean.” He said, shrugging. “I leave for London tomorrow after I make a quick visit to mater and pater Holmes. Mycroft has agreed to warn them by phone and take most of their ire so by the time I arrive it will be all hail the return of the prodigal son. I am sure mummy will have a few choice words for me once she recovers from her initial joy but I plan on being long gone before then. She can castigate me via mobile at a later date and I am very sure she will.”

His face fell as he continued. “I am not so sure about John, Mrs. Hudson and Lestrade as they are all a bit trickier, especially John. I am quite certain he will be furious and will probably want to beat me worse than Mycroft did last night.” Sherlock snorted and cut his eyes at Mycroft. “You have gotten so touchy. Are you sure you haven’t lost your edge with this marriage and fatherhood thing?”

Mycroft narrowed his eyes and was just about to retort when Avery dropped her spoon on the floor with a bang. Sherlock picked it up, cleaned it carefully with his napkin and solemnly handed it back to her. Avery looked at the spoon, looked at him and lifted her little arms and said quite clearly. “Uppie!”

Sherlock’s face softened and he rose, releasing Avery from the high chair and picking her up. She grinned happily up at him and pulled one of his long, dark curls. “Uppie!” she cried, happy that her demand had been understood. Sherlock laughed and nuzzled her with his nose and Avery giggled with pleasure. “Can you say Sherlock, Avery? It’s easy….Sherrrr-lock! Oh what fun we will have when you are older. Mustn’t let that old stick of a father get in the way of us having fun, oh no…” He carried Avery to the far side of the dining room, stopped in front of the window and bounced her on his hip as he pointed out all the fascinating things to be found outside.

Molly reached for Mycroft’s hand a squeezed it under the table. Seeing Avery and Sherlock together was wonderful and though Avery would grow up knowing him as an uncle, he would be a very special uncle indeed. Mycroft squeezed her hand in return and looked into her eyes dreading the strategy session planned when Avery went down for her nap.  She smiled reassuringly at him but knew he was worried. “Have faith, my love, all will be well.” She leaned over and gave him a brief kiss unaware of Sherlock’s eyes trained on them.

 “Stop it you two, the child is watching and you may ruin her for life with all this familial affection. It’s time to wear this little one out and bring Molly in on the plan.”  Sherlock made a face and Avery imitated him.

“I know, let’s play murder!” Molly shot him a look that contained daggers. “Well, maybe that’s a bit much for starters. How about footprint identification? Can you tell the difference between a sheep and cow print, Avery?  I bet you can…  As for your mum, I am sure she will bring excellent ideas and a fresh perspective to the table to catch this reprehensible bastard.” Molly looked at him again, this time shaking her head. “All right, this bad, bad criminal. Once you are asleep that is…” 

******

The three of them sat at the table, their faces grim and postures tense. It would be risky, mostly for Molly. Mycroft didn’t like it at all and had his arms crossed tightly and was glaring at Molly and Sherlock. There were parts of the plan that were distasteful to all three but there appeared to be no other way. No matter how many alternates they discussed they always came back to the first. They had all agreed that John Watson had to be brought in on the plan and Molly and Mycroft agreed to help on that front.

Sherlock would leave that very afternoon to visit their parents and then travel to London the next day. Molly, Mycroft and Avery would move the household back to the residence soon afterwards but not before calling John Watson to ask him to come over and take a look at Avery who had come down with a mystery illness while in Surrey. They all felt that John’s reaction to Sherlock’s resurrection might be extreme and that the residence would be the best setting if things got out of hand. Molly felt badly about lying to John once again but she hoped he would forgive them eventually.

Sherlock had taken one more peek in on the sleeping Avery and prepared to leave. He then looked at Mycroft with nothing short of glee on his face. “Have fun breaking the news to the parental units; I’m sure you will be just brilliant. I predict you will be on the phone for at least twenty minutes. Oh joy!”

He made for the front door, Molly and Mycroft following close behind. He turned and all humor had gone from his face. He stopped in the door, the early afternoon light silhouetting him in its golden glow.

He directed his first comments at Mycroft. “Until we meet again, brother mine. We’ll get through this. The plan is sound and with the both of us and John and Lestrade backing us up very little can go wrong. You get your end set up after returning to London and stay in contact via code to confirm.”

He stepped up to Molly and wrapped her in a great hug. He bent and whispered in her ear. “You’re a brilliant mum and oddly enough, Mycroft is a great dad. Thank you, Molly, for choosing to have Avery in spite of everything. She is a miracle that I never thought to see.” He gently kissed her cheek and let her go.

Mycroft bristled a bit at their intimacy and Sherlock disarmed him by snapping back into snarky humor. “Stand down, big brother. I am not poaching on your territory. I was just telling my lovely sister-in-law what great parents you had both turned out to be. What a concept, you were about as nurturing as a lizard when I was growing up.” He winked at Mycroft, tossed his dark curls and was out the door.


	34. Chapter 34

Chapter 34

Mrs. Hudson was puttering in her kitchen baking her special scones for yet another gentleman she had met while at the market. She was hoping this one wasn’t married, wasn’t a criminal but was still interesting enough to be fun. Men were just so.... Well, she had never had much luck in that arena. If only the boys were still here, they would have run a quick computer check on him for her.

She had gone on, of course, after Sherlock’s death but things were just not the same and grief still pained her. He was such a sweet boy, in spite of his irritating ways, and it just wasn’t fair that someone so young and vital was gone. She struggled with him taking his own life.  It didn’t make sense to her but then again, neither did drug addiction or storing severed heads in the refrigerator.

John had finally left Baker Street and though she missed him, she was relieved he had moved on. He had spent most of the past year in a drunken haze and though Lestrade had tried to help by involving him in several cases and keeping up with him drink for drink, his efforts had not helped much.  Such a good man, she hoped that he would be all right on his own. He had been sweet on Sherlock, she could just tell, in spite of his long line of lady friends. Why John kept denying it she just couldn’t fathom, it was the modern world after all.

Mycroft had called her soon after Sherlock’s death and asked her to hold the flat exactly as it was. He continued to pay Sherlock’s portion in spite of John’s resentment and when John finally moved out, he paid for another full year of rent. He also asked her to air out the flat and dust occasionally which she did, albeit reluctantly and rather haphazardly. It was creepy going up there to an empty flat. It was an unchanging time capsule of happier and noisier times and the heavy silence weighed on her. Mycroft had sent people to clear out the most volatile of Sherlock’s experiments and the oddities in the refrigerator, but otherwise it remained exactly the same.  She wondered at Mycroft’s behavior. He seemed a cold man and why he had decided to keep the flat she had no idea. Sentiment? It seemed unlikely but then again Mycroft had done several unlikely things this past year.

She had been shocked when Molly Hooper had called her out of the blue, told her that she and Mycroft were expecting and that they were getting married. The news was so shocking, in fact, that she had to sit down. Molly had gone on and asked her to be her witness at the wedding. She had agreed but again, had serious doubts. It seemed so out of character for the both of them. Molly had been smitten with Sherlock and now she was marrying his older brother? The older brother that no one seemed to like much? It just didn’t add up.

She had gone to the wedding and it was quite lovely but the real show had been in the corridor before the ceremony. If she had had any doubts about how the couple felt about each other, the touching scene in the corridor at the registrar’s office had convinced her. That kiss that could have made the most hard-hearted curmudgeon sigh. She smiled to herself just thinking about it. How odd life was, she thought as she pulled the scones out of the oven. Molly Hooper and Mycroft Holmes – nothing could have surprised her more. She hoped to see Avery soon as in the photos Molly sent she looked so much like Sherlock in spite of being ginger and freckled like Mycroft. Wouldn’t Sherlock have been pleased to been an uncle?

She finished transferring the hot scones from the baking sheet to a wire rack to cool when she heard a distinct thump from upstairs. Had something toppled over?  There were several piles of magazines and other items left helter-skelter about the flat and she had knocked some things over herself when dusting. Oh well, she would check tomorrow.

She had almost forgotten the thump when she heard the sound of footsteps on the stairs.  Who on earth? She picked up her mobile and keyed in 999 but did not dial. Picking up her rolling pin, still coated with flour, she silently made for the door to the shared hallway. Couldn’t be too careful these days. She hoped against hope that it wasn’t Anderson again. The last time he had broken in he had nearly frightened her to death. Another boy that needed to get a life, that one, did she just attract them? She would just peak out to see if it was John or Mycroft. Who else could it be?

She silently opened the door just as a dark figure, face shrouded by a hooded jacket, reached the base of the stairs. It was shadowed in the hall and she flipped on the overhead light just as the figure turned to face her. At first she couldn’t register what she was seeing and when she did, she dropped the rolling pin and the phone and stood slack jawed.

“Sherlock?” she asked, her voice trembling. She took a cautious step forward, her eyes wide, not really believing.

“Mrs. Hudson.” He replied, his voice unmistakable.

“Oh my…” she said in a quiet voice and slipped to the floor in a dead faint.

“Not good. Definitely, not good” Sherlock knelt quickly at her side and checked her pulse. Steady and strong so it had just been the shock. No heart attacks today to add to his long list of offences. He gently gathered her up and used his knee to open her door. He slipped quickly through the kitchen and into her bedroom where he placed her on the bed. She would recover soon and he was sure she would be furious with him. However, she was a forgiving soul and even though she might be angry, she would forgive him eventually. How nice it was to see her again. In the interim he smelled fresh scones. It was definitely time for tea.

 

******

It was the end of his shift and Greg Lestrade was not in a good mood. He had finally regained his standing at the Yard after almost two years of keeping his head down and doing his best to get on with things and forget bloody Sherlock Holmes. He had suffered greatly after the fall, both professionally and personally.  He had been demoted and when not sitting behind a desk and shuffling paper had been assigned the dregs of the police calls.  He was dead weary of scraping drunks off of sidewalks and harassing prostitutes. His on-again, off-again dance with his ex-wife had finally ended with her taking on a younger and beyond obnoxious boyfriend. It was love, she said, true love.  Well, she could bloody stuff true love where the sun didn’t shine. He was finally done with her. But, as usual, things could be a lot worse. At least she had been good about him seeing the girls.

John Watson had been even more miserable than him and so had made a perfect drinking companion. Whereas Greg was angry and borderline bitter over Sherlock’s death, John had been devastated. Having lost many of his mates to violence in Afghanistan or to suicide afterwards, Sherlock’s choice to jump had confused and hurt him. Greg missed the great bastard in spite of his anger but John had lost his best mate and had still not fully recovered. Drinking had seemed to be the best answer for them both and they had established a pattern of meeting once or twice a week at their favorite pubs to knock them back. John Watson could certainly hold his liquor and there had been a time or two when Greg, no slouch himself when it came to imbibing, had put the brakes on. Getting drunk was one thing but even in his darkest moments he knew better than to drink to the point of blacking out. He was too old and needed his job too badly to take that risk. John, however, had not seemed to care about any of that and Greg had taken him home, almost insensible, many times. His heart hurt for the man, it really did.

Greg paused at the station door.  Bloody raining again. He flipped up his collar and dashed for the covered car park. He just had time for a fag before picking up the girls.  He had them for the weekend and was looking forward to their young nonsense. Even the oldest, now on the cusp of her teen years, was a joy. He lit up under the shelter of the concrete overhang. He should really quit smoking too. The girls had asked him to and though he rationally knew that the damn things could kill him, they were his last crutch that had helped him through the long, lonely nights in his depressing flat.

All of them had suffered after the fall but except for John Watson and their mutual quest for pint-fueled oblivion, he hadn’t seen much of the old gang. No reason to go the Baker Street any more since John moved out. Molly had completely disappeared for a while and when they had finally met again over the body of a young murder victim in the morgue, she had been pale and dispirited. Even she, who usually made the best of everything, had lost her spark after Sherlock’s death.  He couldn’t imagine what she had gone through handling the body afterwards. What had she been thinking? He guessed thinking had not been in the forefront of her mind at the time and she had suffered at work as well though had dodged a demotion.

However, Molly had surprised them all, hadn’t she? Within months of the fall, she had moved in with Mycroft Holmes, gotten pregnant and they had married. He hadn’t seen that coming and when she called to invite him to the wedding he had been floored. Sweet little Molly Hooper marrying that evil bastard, Mycroft Holmes? He would have predicted a flying saucer landing in Hyde Park before he predicted such a pair. The invite had been yet another great excuse to get stinking with John and so they had. Then there had been that shooting in the business district of Mycroft’s driver. Greg had heard a bit about it at the yard but could find out very little. Someone had obviously not wanted the attack to be publicized but he couldn’t be sure if it was Mycroft behind the silence or some other government spook.

He and John had next seen Molly and Mycroft in the hospital after Avery was born and to give Mycroft Holmes some credit, he had been loving towards Molly and delighted with Avery. He was so different from the Mycroft Holmes Greg had known for years that Greg had trouble accepting this new skewed version of reality. If this was an act, Mycroft should be up for an Olivier. Molly had looked at Mycroft with Avery in his arms with such adoration that Greg had to look away. That look was a look he remembered on the face of his wife when their first girl had been born; now lost to history and the bitterness of a failed marriage. He had felt himself hope then, that in spite of everything, that this odd little family might survive.

He had invited John out for a drink afterwards after passing Avery back and forth and bidding the new parents goodbye but John had refused. He had then called to make excuses on their regular pub night the next week and the week after. On the third week, Greg had asked him outright what was going on and John had told him that it was time to move on, Sherlock was dead and drinking himself to death was not going to bring him back. He had enjoyed drinking with Greg and had appreciated his support but he needed to break out of his circular behavior and rebuild his life.  They had met a few more times since then but John limited himself to one drink and polite conversation.  Greg had been both relieved and disappointed as he had few other options for companionship in his life either. Anderson had pretty much gone round the bend and the rest of his old colleagues at the yard treated him like he had some sort of infectious disease. Yeah, an infectious disease called failure, he thought as he ground out his fag out on the concrete wall.

Evening was coming on but he thought he had time for one more fag. He dug in his pocket for the package and shook another out.  His mum had called the bloody things coffin nails. Maybe he would quit again this week and maybe this time he would succeed. He was just about to light up when someone very close cleared their throat. Greg startled and looked around. He saw the edge of a dark hooded jacket poking out from behind a pillar

“Got another one of those, mister?” The voice was low and vaguely familiar.

“Who’s there? Come out where I can see you. If you’re harmless, I’ll give you one if you promise not to hang around.” Must be a homeless person, Greg thought. Poor sod, what a life. “There are other people who park here who may not be as kind as me and might give you a good thumping. Come on out, I won’t hurt you.”

“I should hope not since I have come a long way to see you, Greg.” Greg’s eyes widened as Sherlock Holmes threw back the hood and stepped into the light.

Surprise gave way to anger, quickly followed by a fierce burst of joy. “You! You bloody little bastard…you’re alive. I should beat the living crap out of you, I should. You ruined my freaking life and almost got me sacked. I knew something was fishy about you jumping off that damned roof. Too neat, too perfect and too out of character. Do you know what the lot of us have been through over you?”  Greg reached out to push Sherlock away but instead caught him by his jacket front and pulled him into a quick embrace his eyes prickling with unshed tears. “I’ll kill you later if John doesn’t beat you senseless first but for now I want the whole story. You owe me that at least after making my life pure hell for two years, you sodding little prick.”

Sherlock tolerated the hug and even hugged back a bit in spite of himself. It was good to see Greg too but now it was time to get to work.

“There is trouble, Greg, and you are needed. I spent two years eradicating vermin but there are still more in London. Molly and Avery have been threatened. I have a plan but it is risky and I will need both you and John to make it work.  It will be dangerous and may skirt the law. Are you in?”

“God yes and God help me but I am in. But first, I need the whole story, agreed?” Greg peered at the cuts and bruises on Sherlock’s face. “What the hell happened to you, did you walk into a wall?”

“I will tell you the whole story but not tonight as you are already running late.” Sherlock looked slightly chagrined. “As for my unfortunate condition, I may have goaded Mycroft into extreme violence against my person. He was not amused by my sudden return and my reaction to his marriage. I am sure you can understand the impulse. Now can I have that cigarette?” Sherlock grinned at him.

Greg shook his head and offered him a fag. The big git hadn’t changed at all.

******

Molly paced in the first floor hallway of the residence waiting for John. Her nerves were high and she forced herself to be still and closed her eyes trying to calm herself. Everything had been prepared and Sherlock was waiting in the library. Molly felt badly about lying to John this one last time but hoped that he would forgive her and Mycroft eventually for keeping Sherlock’s secret. It had been for the greater good but that hadn’t made it any easier to bear, especially when John had suffered so. Mycroft was just down the hall in his office as they had agreed John might react less violently if Molly broke the news. He would monitor the situation remotely and if he thought things were getting out of hand, he would intervene. Molly had agreed but now that John was on his way, she was no longer sure of their plan. Poor John, the best of men put into an intolerable situation by the people he loved best in the world.

A cab pulled into the portico and John got out. He smiled at her as she walked through the back door to meet him. He looked better than he had in a long time; alert, clean shaven with a spark of his old self in his eyes. Molly walked up to him, face serious and gave him a big hug.

He hugged her back but then pulled back. “Hey, what’s with the long face and the hug? I know that you are worried about Avery but it sounds like a common childhood cold to me. Everything is going to be fine, I’m sure of it. Kids are remarkably tough, you know.”

Molly offered up a thin smile. “John, please come into the library. I have something to tell you.”

He complied with Molly’s request and they walked down the broad hall together. “OK, Molls, is everything OK? Has Avery gotten worse? Maybe I should take a look right now so you will stop worrying?” John stopped in front of the library door and looked at her closely.

“No, John, Avery is fine. More than fine, in fact, she is not sick at all. Please come into the library. Someone is here waiting to see you.”  Molly opened the door a gestured for him to precede her. They entered the room and John turned to face her.

He looked at her suspiciously, all his senses now alert and finally catching her hidden anxiety. “What do you mean; someone is waiting to see me? What is this all about, Molly? Why did you feel you had to lie to get me over here?”

Molly stood by the side of the library door wringing her hands, her eyes pleading. “I am so sorry, John. If I had been able to tell you, I would have but I couldn’t. Things were out of my control and my hands were tied. If it makes things any better for you, only I and Mycroft knew. I hope that someday you will find it in your heart to forgive me – forgive us.”

John stood stiffly next to a wing chair, his face concerned and his back to the room. “What is it, Molly? This isn’t like you at all.”

Molly pursed her lips as if preparing for the inevitable, her eyes left John and she nodded. John turned and what he saw stole his breath and made him stagger in shock. He grasped the back of the chair for support, his face white and his eyes wide. The world tilted and then righted itself.

“Sherlock?” His voice was strained and his nostrils flared with emotion. “Not dead? You’re not dead? Oh my god, I asked for a miracle didn’t I…” His face contorted and tears began to run down his face.

Sherlock faced him across the room, his face controlled but with an obvious tension in his stance. When John staggered, he darted forward to grasp his friend’s arm. John turned to look at him and then reached out to grasp his shoulder. “Real, you’re real. Not dead…thank god, not dead”

“No, John, not dead and I am so sorry.” Sherlock hung his head, his sorrow and shame at deceiving his friend finally manifesting. “It was all planned but I couldn’t tell you; no one could tell you. There were so many times I wanted to reach out…”

Before Sherlock could finish his sentence, John grasped him by the shoulders and pulled him into a hard embrace, his voice ragged with emotion. “I don’t care, I don’t care. I will kill you later but right now I don’t care. You’re alive, oh thank god, you are alive.”

Sherlock returned the embrace. The two men stood, locked together, the tall man and his shorter friend, oblivious to everything but each other. The emotion level in the room was almost painful. Molly - now totally forgotten and unnoticed, eyes welling up - backed slowly and silently away shutting the library door behind her.


	35. Chapter 35

Chapter 35

Anthea got out of the car in front of her townhouse and issued her driver orders for the morning. It had been a hellish week so far and was not getting any better. How had Mycroft done this job all these years without having a nervous breakdown? He had made it look so easy but now she knew better. Sixty hour work weeks, calls at 3:00 AM, the PM on your back constantly and navigating the subtleties of foreign diplomacy had all taken their toll and she felt ancient. 

Her assistant had proven to be a disappointment to her and she was seriously thinking about changing horses.  He was efficient and got the job done but had none of the intuitive response that the job required. Why the hell had she hired him in the first place? Because he was ginger and tall with thinning hair and had reminded her of Mycroft, that’s why.  Stupid, just plain stupid… How could she have thought that she could just replace him with another man? She would deal with her assistant next week and hire one of the bright young women from the agent pool. 

Her relationship with Mycroft had improved but was still strained. She had been too hard on him over the Hooper woman and had misjudged the depth of feeling he had for her. Anthea still didn’t understand how it had happened but Mycroft had finally fallen in love and was happy. She had been fiercely jealous and had defended her territory and where had it gotten her? She adored her job but was now estranged from one of the people she loved most in the world. Not being able to break the William Scott case and the subsequent shooting had been frustrating as well. Why the hell hadn’t her office made any progress on the investigation? Did she have to do her new job and theirs too?

Thus distracted, she failed to notice the small wires attached to her front door. Just as she was about to put her key into the lock, she was seized from behind and felt a deep pressure on her neck. She bucked trying to break the hold but they were too strong and too skilled. Mustn’t black out she thought as she spiraled down into oblivion.

******

She woke in a large darkened room. She was not restrained and was lying on a wide bed. The room was finely furnished and whoever had taken her wanted more from her than a dead woman could give. She was alive for now but how long would that last?  She stretched and flexed her neck checking for damage. Some bruising and slight pain but not bad. Whoever had subdued her had known what they were doing. She rose from the bed and was just about to try the door when there was a small polite knock. She did not answer and crouched to spring when a familiar voice said “Stand down, Anthea, it’s me.”

Mycroft, for god’s sake, since when had he stooped to amateur theatrics just to get her attention? She swung open the door and came face to face with both Holmes brothers; Mycroft looking pale and tense and Sherlock looking like someone taken a bat to his face. When had Mycroft’s git of a brother come back? “What the fresh hell is going on and where the hell are we?” she spit at Mycroft, crossing her arms.

Mycroft flicked on the overhead light and both men entered the room. “I apologize for my unorthodox method of getting your attention but you were just about to trigger a bomb wired to your front door. I did not think you would mind a few bruises as opposed to being blown into to bits. We are currently in one of my lesser known but comfortable bolt-holes. Even Sherlock did not know where this one was located.” Mycroft gave his brother a superior smile.

Anthea let out an exasperated breath and sat down on the side of the bed.  The two men sat in chairs facing her. Mycroft raised one eyebrow and looked wryly at her. “You never did open your door, by the by. Your driver did and he was unfortunately killed instantly. Or at least a suitable pre-deceased analog was killed instantly. You immediately followed protocol and went to ground, current location unknown.”

Sherlock grinned at her. “Mycroft let me do the honors as I am a lot better at such things than he is. It’s good to know that I haven’t lost my touch. How’s your neck?” Sherlock put his hands behind his head and leaned back in his chair.

Anthea scowled back at him. “Welcome home, Sherlock. I do hope you are having fun.” She paused and looked angrily at Mycroft. “What the hell is going on?”

Mycroft scowled at his younger brother and held up a hand signaling Anthea to wait. “Shut up, Sherlock, you are not helping.”

Mycroft shifted his attention to Anthea. “I have much to tell, you my friend.  There has been a security breach in your office linked to Sherlock’s efforts to eradicate the Moriarty network in Eastern Europe and Asia. I should have detected it earlier but have been a bit distracted as of late.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “Playing lovey-dovey with my pathologist instead of minding the store. Nice job, brother mine.”

Anthea shut him down this time. “Shut up, Sherlock, I have had enough of you. Why didn’t you just stay dead? Things were a lot less complicated without you around messing in our work.”  Her attention back on Mycroft, she continued. “All right, there is breach in my office and someone just tried to kill me. I assume you two geniuses have figured it out?” She paused and grinned wolfishly back at Mycroft, her eyes glittering. “If so, do tell and let’s go after the bastards.”

Mycroft smiled at her, a cool and deadly smile. “That’s the Anthea I know and love. We have made a plan and you get to play an integral part.” He crossed the room, took her by the hand and pulled her to her feet. His voice was soft and dangerous. “Very soon you will conveniently resurface and go to your office. The play will begin with a small domestic fire which will rapidly escalate into a conflagration. You will call me in to consult on the bomb and I will join you in your office. There will be a compromising and unfortunate confrontation and our bait will bolt, seemingly alone and unprotected. The plant will follow and it will be their undoing. Now, time to talk details and set a trap to catch the rat.”

 

******

The past five days had been pure hell for Molly. She and Mycroft had first had a small tiff, made up and things went back to normal. Then they had another and the tension had ratcheted up at the residence. Then they had a real howler –well out of Avery’s earshot – that had left Molly pale and shaking. By day three Mycroft had moved out of their bedroom and was sleeping down the hall. It had all been planned but unlike the play earlier in the year, this one was painful, exhausting and unrelenting. Molly missed her Mycroft who had been replaced by a nightmare version of the old Mycroft.

They had barely spoken to each other for several days and the big finish was coming up. They had only brief moments to console each other as no one in the residence, with the exception of Mrs. Carlton, could know that it was all an act. Avery was their great comfort and they did all they could to shield her from the tension in the house.

Molly stood in the nursery looking down at Avery as she slept in her crib.  It was early in the morning of what might be the last day of Molly’s life. She studied every detail of Avery’s face; the dim dawn just beginning to light her cheek, her beautiful dark red curls and her jet black lashes, so dramatic against the paleness of her skin. What a small miracle she and Sherlock had wrought. Molly gently reached down to stroke her baby’s hair. So warm, so soft and so alive.

She knew she was going to die right after Avery was born.  Not literally die as she might this afternoon, but die in the sense that she was just one woman who had born a daughter in a long line of other women stretching back through time. In the great scheme of life, she no longer mattered much, but this beautiful child did.  She had wept as this realization had bloomed in her mind; wept for her own mother now lost to death and all the other mothers in the world who gave up a piece or all of themselves so that their child might live. How clueless she had been about the difficulties her own mother had faced. So it was in the circle of parent and child.

Molly sensed Mycroft behind her. He slipped his arms around her. “She’s beautiful, isn’t she? So much like her mother.” He kissed the side of Molly’s head while at the same time listening for anyone who might be out in the hallway. “We don’t have much time. Are you ready? It’s going to be a hard day ahead but if all goes well it will be over by tonight. Remember, no matter what happens, that I love you deeply and will keep the promise I made to you the day we got married.”

He reached into his pocket and drew out a set of papers; the same documents she had signed so long ago downstairs in the library agreeing to marry Mycroft Holmes by proxy. “I don’t think we need these any longer do you?” He handed her the papers and her faced crumpled as she turned and threw her arms around him, burying her face into his shoulder. Oh god, she loved this man and the thought of leaving him and Avery choked her with grief.

Mycroft stroked her hair and held her close. Molly reached up to cup his cheek in her hand and look into his stormy blue eyes. She rose up on her toes and kissed him, closing her eyes. She stepped back from him and very slowly and deliberately tore the documents into small pieces and let them fall from her hands. There was only one document that mattered now and it was safely stored in her office in a decidedly unromantic manila file folder labeled: Certified Copy of an Entry of Marriage.  It told a tale far more meaningful than the words themselves; the journey of two people who had found each other in the midst of a storm and saved one another. 

She looked up at Mycroft and took his hand. Her tears shimmered in her eyes but did not fall. “Yes, I am ready. I love you too.”


	36. Chapter 36

 Chapter 36

The residence rang with their anger and Mrs. Carlton had taken Avery to the furthest reaches of the garden so she wouldn’t have to hear her parents screaming at each other. It had started over breakfast, just as planned, and had escalated over the course of the last hour. Mrs. Carlton had swept into the library less than five minutes after the shouting had started, took Avery up in her arms and with a nod to the players, was out the door. Avery had been briefly confused but soon relaxed again as Mrs. Carlton distracted her by waving a toy for Toby. The child shrieked with delight as the tawny cat leapt at the ball of feathers on a string. It was up to them now and all Emma could do was keep Avery safe.

Molly had started the fight by accusing Mycroft of having an affair with Anthea.  He had responded, coolly irritated at first, then sarcastically and then then coldly angry as he told her it was none of her business. Molly had started begging him to tell her the truth, tears running down her face and her nose dripping in a most unbecoming fashion. This had gone on for twenty minutes when the library door had burst open and Mycroft emerged, grim faced and pale, rubbing his head and complaining that a migraine was imminent. Molly had followed him out into the hall and tried to touch him but he was having none of it and pushed her away, keying his phone to summon a car.

He swept out onto the drive under the portico and Molly followed him, still weeping and begging him to stop. He ignored her pleading and got into a car and was off.  Molly had paced up and down the hallway just inside the door for at least fifteen minutes under the watchful eye of security. Her tears had dried but she looked slightly crazed as she too keyed her phone and called for a car. Mrs. Carlton, returning from the garden with Avery, had tried to stop her citing security. Molly had barked at her stating that she needed to find Mycroft and Alan would take care of her. Alan drove up and handed her in, looking concerned and asking her if she was all right. Molly brushed him off and instructed him to take her to Mycroft’s old office. The ride was interminable and Molly stared out the window trying not to think about what was to come next.

The car drew up to the building and Molly leapt out, barely remembering to take her bag. She crossed the lobby at a good clip, her obvious upset attracting quite a bit of attention and took the lift to Mycroft’s old floor. Slower than ever she thought as she fidgeted and paced inside the small car, her face set and determined. She swept down the hall into the waiting area, blithely ignoring Anthea’s assistant, who rose to stop her.

“You can’t go in there they are in a meeting.” When Molly didn’t stop, Alex leapt up from behind his desk and took her none too gently by the arm to subdue her. “You heard me, Mrs. Holmes; they are in a meeting and are not to be disturbed.”

“Don’t you dare touch me! You know why she chose you, right?  Because you faintly resemble my damned husband. Well, that hasn’t worked out, has it?” She pulled her arm away from him.

She reached out and turned the door handle just as Alex tried once again to stop her. The door swung open and what the both of them saw next stopped them dead in the doorway. Molly felt her heart drop into her shoes. She knew it was theatre but it was still hard to see first-hand. Words were one thing but reality was another and she felt a blazing jealousy and a sick feeling in her stomach as she took in the scene.

Anthea was splayed wantonly out across the desk, her blouse open to display a black lacy bra and an abundance of breast. Her eyes were half lidded with passion and her lips were swollen from violent kisses. Mycroft stood between her splayed legs, her knees raised and her high heels still on. Mycroft’s trousers were around his ankles and he was caught mid-thrust as the door swung open. He still wore his suit jacket; Molly caught a glimpse of her favorite paisley tie and this small detail derailed reason and sent her over the edge of despair. He slowly lifted his head to turn around and look at Molly and Alex in the doorway, his faced blurred with passion. He leveled his cold blue eyes on hers, licked his lips, smiled and thrust again, his hands grasping Anthea’s thighs. Anthea moaned and bucked into him, raising her pelvis off the desk and scattering papers across the floor.

“Get out, Molly.” He said dangerously, his voice low. When she didn’t move, he increased his volume and shouted at her, his voice hard. “Get out.”

Molly’s face turned red and then paled. She held her breath for a long moment and swayed in the doorway looking like she was going to faint. She turned and fled, slamming the door behind her. She stopped at the outer door and glared at Alex, his mouth hanging open. In a moment she was out the door and down the hall. She was crying raggedly and muttering to herself as she went. Alex keyed his phone, left the office and dashed to the secondary stairs at the end of the corridor. He needed to know where she was going and what she was going to do.

Now, she thought to herself as she neared the lift, quickly but not too quickly.  Anthea had rigged the elevator to slow mode this morning and that would give them time.  Anthea was already dressed and had made her way down the stairs to the lobby where a car was waiting. Mycroft was on his way back to the residence to insure Avery and the staff were safe. The others were out there waiting.  Molly keyed her mobile and told Alan to be in front to pick her up.  Panting and afraid, Molly leaned her head against the mirrored glass trying to gain back some control.  That had been horrible, convincing and heart breaking.  She knew it was all a sham but it had looked so real.  It would take her a long time to scrub those images from her mind.

The elevator was nearing the lobby and this next part was going to be tricky. Mycroft and Sherlock hadn’t known in all their careful planning if they would try to take her in the lobby or ambush her at Baker Street. They were betting on Baker Street but the next few minutes would prove to be critical to the plan.

The lift door opened and she left the small space looking far more confident than she felt.  Her face was stiff with tension and she willed herself not to look around as she walked across the large open space, through the glass entry doors and out to the car.  Alan was at the door and handed her in without meeting her eyes. 

“Take me to Baker Street, Alan. Mrs. Hudson will let me in. I need to be alone for a while.” Molly sat in the back seat looking out the window but seeing nothing, relieved to be away from the building, her nerves strung tight for what was to come. It was up to Sherlock, John and Greg now and she could only hope that the play had been a success and that during this brief intermission, the villain had followed the script.

******

Mycroft felt ill and quickly stepped back from Anthea after Molly slammed the door. With as much dignity he could muster, he bent and slid his trousers back up and adjusted his clothing. He pulled out his handkerchief and carefully wiped the lipstick from his faced and then dropped the square of fine cotton, now streaked red, in the waste basket. Anthea was up and fully dressed in a flash, her fashionable suit discarded and replaced by ordinary street clothes. The scene they had set up had worked perfectly and he could tell by the look of shock on Alex’s face and the hopelessness in Molly’s eyes that they had played it just right to evoke the worst possible emotional carnage.

Anthea said nothing to him afterwards but had reached out to grasp his shoulder in support before she too was out the hidden door at the back of the office one her way to Baker Street to render support. She would not emerge until she entered the underground parking area, off limits except for a few, long time and heavily monitored staff. From there she would join a small, select force of agents, hand-picked from the veteran staff, to back up the plan should something go awry.

Mycroft, now alone in the office that had once been his whole reason for being, stood quietly for moment and gathered himself to face the next few hours. He had never noticed how grey and lifeless this space felt. It was an elegant space, yes; but lacking the color and vibrancy of his new life with Molly and Avery. They had changed him for good and there was no going back now. He thought bitterly of dashing off cryptic phrases in the past about the dangerous nature of human love. Caring was not an advantage, how wrong had he been in his isolated arrogance. His heart would break if anything was to happen to Molly and all his clever platitudes wouldn’t change that fact. He didn’t know if he would have the strength to raise Avery on his own without her.

His jaw clenched as he prepared himself to be escorted out of the building by one of Anthea’s young female assistants. His cover was a full onset migraine. He had treated his eyes with menthol and they were swollen and red and he could fake the physical attitude from past experience. The symptoms of a migraine would not be difficult to project the way he was feeling. It was up to Molly and the rest of them now. His job now was to wait at the residence until he heard from Sherlock. He hated being left out of the game but he and Molly had agreed that it had to be her to lure the threat and that if anything happened to her, Mycroft would still be alive for Avery.

There was a soft knock at the door and a young female agent with dark hair looking all of fifteen entered. She gazed at him with wide blue eyes. “Are you ready, sir?” Good Christ, this lovely young thing made him feel old on top of everything else.

He straightened briefly and then sagged. He needed to look defeated and ill. He nodded to the agent and hung his head. Forcing his arm to tremble slightly, he took the young woman’s arm. “Yes, I am ready. You know what to do?”

“Oh yes, sir. I am to treat you like an old, sick man and support you until you get into the car. I am then supposed to come back inside shaking my head and tell my mates just how sick you were. Anthea briefed me quite thoroughly.” The young woman paused and looked embarrassed. “It is a great honor being able to assist you, sir. You are rather a legend around here you know.”

Mycroft smiled grimly at the girl. Some legend, he thought.  “What is your name, young lady?”

“Amanda, sir. Shall we go?” She looked shyly up at him, he took her arm and she led him through the door to face his solitary vigil at the residence.

******

Sherlock waited grim faced and impatient behind a blind door in the paneling of the Baker Street upstairs flat. The explosion that had nearly destroyed the façade of the building years ago and nearly taken him out had provided quite the opportunity to do some retrofitting.  Hidden cameras had been installed throughout and several secret blind panels had been installed concealing small but well stocked hiding places complete with small banks of camera display panels. He was currently installed in one, John in another and Greg Lestrade was upstairs in John’s old room. Anthea had arrived ten minutes prior through the back garden and was now downstairs with Mrs. Hudson waiting for Molly to arrive. Anthea had set up a small communication center downstairs, linked remotely to the upstairs cameras and ear buds worn by all three men and her staff in the field around Baker Street. Mycroft had a visual feed at the residence but no sound. They were as ready as they were going to be.

The flat looked old and tired through the camera lens. Mrs. Hudson had kept it up but just barely and there was a layer of dust over everything. Most of the furniture had been sheeted but every horizontal surface was still littered with the yellowing and dusty detritus of a dead detective. An old crime scene collage was still affixed to the wall above the shrouded sofa and the photos had faded and curled on the edges, the images blurring. Mycroft had removed most of his old experiments but the kitchen was a tangle of burners, glass tubes and beakers. The curtains were mostly drawn and dust motes danced in the thin blades of the late afternoon sun. He had been very careful not to disturb anything when he was here last and the flat looked uninhabited and depressing. The perfect placed for a betrayed Molly Hooper to run and hide from her unfaithful husband.

Mycroft had objected to this part of the plan stating that it was tasteless and out of character. Molly had agreed with the tasteless part but not with the other. He had been offended and about to object when she had looked at him, her eyes kind, and asked him just how many people knew how loving and caring he really was. His brow knitted and he admitted that she had a point, most people thought him a right bastard. She cocked her head and raised her eyebrows and he had reluctantly agreed to stage an appropriately salacious scene with Anthea.

“But I don’t have to like it.” He snapped taking out his discomfort on Sherlock. Molly had reached over, her face soft and took his hand. “I will know it’s not the truth and that’s all that matters.” Mycroft’s shoulders lost their stiffness and he leaned forward until their foreheads touched. “My sweet girl…” Sherlock had to look away in discomfort. Molly had never looked at him like that and though she might offer up her life to save him, she would never love him like she loved his brother. This plan had to work, for all of them.

Sherlock mind snapped back to the present. Molly’s car was pulling up and the game was about to begin.


	37. Chapter 37

Chapter 37

Molly knocked at Mrs. Hudson’s door. Alan had parked the car and followed her in to make sure the flat was all right before leaving her. Molly had been impatient with him but had tolerated his presence. She now stood at Mrs. Hudson’s door explaining that things were going badly with Mycroft and she needed a place to shelter for at least one night and possibly longer.

“Oh my dear girl, is everything all right? Molly shook her head in the negative and Mrs. Hudson patted her shoulder. Molly started to cry and the older woman embraced her for a long moment before turning and going back into her flat. “I am certain Sherlock would have been happy for you to stay here. I must warn you though; it is not very pleasant up there. It’s livable and there are clean linens and towels in the closet in Sherlock’s old room. I’ve done my best but my heart really wasn’t in it. Just be a tic, I will fetch you the key.”

Mrs. Hudson was just a tic and soon Molly and Alan were trudging up the stairs to the second floor.  Molly’s nerves were on high alert and though she wasn’t quite sure about what would happen next, the small gun that Mrs. Hudson passed to her during their brief embrace did a great deal to steady her nerves. She inserted the key in the lock and swung the door open. The flat was indeed a bit neglected and just looking at the shambles and dust made her depressed.

She walked into the main sitting room and carefully lifted the sheet off of Sherlock’s chair. A small cloud of dust billowed up making Molly sneeze. “Well, Alan, everything looks all right here. You can go now.” Molly turned to him and gasped in surprise.

Alan stood his face grim with a gun trained on her. “I’m afraid I can’t do that Mrs. I am to keep you here until he comes to deal with you.”

Molly looked at him, incredulous, her eyes confused. “Alan, what are you doing? Is this some sort of sick joke that Mycroft put you up to?  If so, stop now and get out.”

Alan looked at her sadly but the gun didn’t waiver. “It’s no joke Mrs. and neither of us are going anywhere. He should be here any time now. He’s going to kill you, you know and then kill the old lady downstairs. He must kill you to stop the voices in his head. I had to help him, you see. He has my sister Jenny and will kill her if I didn’t help him. I’m sorry Mrs., you’re a good person but I have to help my sister.”

Molly was pleading now. “Please, Alan, let me go. Don’t do this, think of Avery. Mycroft will help you find your sister, I know he will.”

“I can’t take that chance Mrs. and I am so sorry. You’re a good mum and I am so sorry.”

Molly heard steps on the stairs and slowly backed up until she was in the corner near the fireplace. Her eyes went wide as the door swung open.

“Alex, what are you doing here?” It was Anthea’s tall, ginger assistant and he was holding a gun with a silencer pointed straight at her. He strode into the room and stood next to Alan watching her closely to insure she was not about to bolt. His face was fixed and his eyes glittered with hatred as he looked at her.

“You are a slippery little bitch, you are. You should have died a long time ago but in a way I’m glad that you didn’t as it will be so much more painful for all of your little friends and that bastard husband of yours.” He kept one eye on Molly and backed towards the kitchen. He picked up a long necked, wide based beaker and cracked it quickly against the edge of the sink. It shattered leaving the neck and a jagged mess of sharp glass.

“Shooting you is far too quick. I think we will cut you a bit first and maybe take a look at what you have under that skirt that is so interesting to the Holmes brothers. I think a bit of a tableau is in order replete with blood, body parts and nasty bodily fluids. Can you see it, Molly?  I know you’ve seen it in the morgue but this setting will make it so more…” He paused and smiled at her, “intimate.” I want you to visualize it as your fear will make it so much more fun.”

Alan’s grip on the gun wavered and he looked ill. “Wait a minute. You said you would just shoot her and we would leave. I didn’t buy into torture and rape, no I didn’t. Just shoot her and let’s go get my sister.”

Alex looked at Alan with something that resembled pity on his face. “You poor stupid bastard, did you really think your sweet Jenny was still alive? She sang so beautifully at the end and I cut her throat just as I came. Her body twitched so sweetly under me. Pity they don’t last as long as I would like, I never have long enough with them before they are gone.”

“You fucking bastard, I will kill you.” Alan raised the gun but before he could squeeze off a shot, Alex had already squeezed the trigger, there was an abrupt pop from the silenced gun and Alan dropped like a stone. Molly shrieked and cowered even tighter into the corner. Alan lolled on the carpet, bleeding profusely, one eye bulging from a ruined socket.

Molly gagged and retched in her corner and looked as if she was trying to climb the wallpaper. “Why?” she cried, “Why are you doing this?”

Alex came closer watching her through half closed eyes. “That’s right, now I feel the fear. It is coming off you in waves. Good girl, I like them frightened.” He stopped and swayed, almost as if he were in ecstasy. “He was my big brother, Jim Moriarty. My big brother… He took such good care of me when we were young. He protected me from our crazy parents and oh the pleasures he taught me after dark in our bedroom. He liked to cut and burn and I still hear his voice in my head remembering the pain and the pleasure just a knife edge away from each other. However, it was me who killed the family dog and cat and was sent away. But he found me, yes, he found me years later and we picked up right where we left off. It’s him, you know, his voice in my head never leaving me alone. He wants you all to burn.”

He snapped out of his reverie and his eyes grew hard. “It was all part of his plan, you know, keeping me a secret and getting me into government service where I could slowly get closer to Mycroft Holmes to funnel information back to the network. Did you enjoy playing with William Scott? I smuggled him into the building that morning but the idiot failed and he had to die. Your bullet didn’t kill him you know. I got to him in the hospital and no one figured it out.”

He came closer, fingering the beaker as Molly cringed in the corner. “It took years in the system, it did, but that stupid bitch Anthea finally put me in just the perfect position to exact my revenge. Sherlock Holmes killed my brother as sure as if he had fired the gun himself and Mycroft Holmes helped him do it. Sherlock had loved you and you were just the first of his little friends on my list. But then you went and complicated things by marrying that bastard Mycroft and slipping out of my reach.  I had been watching you for months and had just been thinking about making a little call on you in your old flat. I was going to kill your cat and make you drink its blood before play time. Pity that never came to pass… But the cat is weak sauce compared to Avery, what a cute little thing she is. Pity she will never get to grow up after I am through with her. And I will get to her, Miss Molly, maybe not today and maybe not next year, but I will get to her. But enough chat about good times to come, it’s time to play. Let’s get to know each other a bit better, shall we?”

Molly felt an irrational anger rising, damping down her fear and infusing her body with a fierce energy. She forgot the plan, forgot everything except this beast threatening Avery and launched herself at him, her fingernails aiming for his face. “You will never hurt my daughter, you animal” she shrieked.

Alex, calmly and as if in slow motion, raised the gun and shot her in the gut. Molly grunted in pain and fell in a crumpled heap at his feet. Blood started to seep from her wound. Alex walked over to her. “It will hurt even more now bitch. You spoiled my fun and will die way too soon.” He pushed her over with one foot and found himself looking down the barrel of a gun. Not even pausing, he kicked the gun out of her hand and it discharged harmlessly into the ceiling.

He kicked her again and stepped on her wrist, the small bones crunching under his shoe. Molly moaned and rolled herself into a small ball still pinioned to the floor. Smiling, he set the gun down on the fireplace mantle. Brandishing the broken beaker, he grinned at her. “Nice try, bitch. It’s time to play now.”

******

Sherlock watched the entire drama play out in his sitting room while talking softly to John, Greg and Anthea to keep them calm. John was jumpy as was Greg, wanting to end it. They needed this man alive as he was the key for other potential Moriarty operatives still working in the UK and Europe. Anthea said nothing and to Sherlock her silence was even more concerning than the tense chatter of his friends. She was fierce and unpredictable and her nest had been soiled.

Molly was hurt but not as hurt as she would have been if not for the Kevlar vest she wore under her clothing. Sherlock was suffering for Molly as well but was sure his pain was nothing compared to what his brother was going through right now. They had to wait for the perfect moment to leave their hiding places and spring the trap. Molly was tough and knew what was at stake. They had recorded the bastard and had enough on him to put him away for life.  Alex had taken out one problem after shooting Alan but he was still much too focused, had a gun and could easily shoot Molly in the head if the trap was sprung too soon.

Molly had surprised them all by launching herself at Alex and then trying to shoot him. Sherlock felt his anxiety surge as she fell and then again as he heard the delicate bones in Molly’s wrist break. Alex, distracted and thinking Molly was too hurt to fight, set down the gun. Sherlock quickly gave the order. “He put the gun down. Now, go now!”

The flat exploded as three doors flew open simultaneously and Sherlock, John and Anthea burst into the room, guns drawn. There was a clatter on the stairs as Greg rushed down to join them, gun drawn as well. Everyone froze for a moment. Alex quickly scanned the room, gauging his chances. Seeing Sherlock, his face blanked with shock. “You bloody, bloody bastard…” he growled. He dropped the beaker and snatched Molly up from the floor, holding her tight and using her to shield himself.  She was a dead weight and though conscious, her eyes were glazed with pain and she was limp in his arms. His eye sought the gun on the mantle and then glanced back into the room.  Anthea met his eyes and smiled, her eyes dark and her stance sure as she held the gun in an obvious challenge. Her voice was hard when she spoke. “Let her go, there is no way out now.”

Alex went for the gun and Sherlock, John and Greg all flinched as Anthea steadied her aim and prepared to shoot. Sherlock yelled “Don’t kill him, don’t kill him”.  Molly suddenly arched in Alex’s arms and stomped down as hard as she could on his instep. Alex dropped her and staggered. Still smiling, Anthea precisely refined her aim and shot. Time slowed down and the men rushed forward as if in slow motion. The bullet found it’s mark and Alex fell, screaming, clutching his knee which had dissolved into a bloody pulp as Anthea’s slug tore through it.

Sherlock and John ran to tend Molly as Anthea and Greg cuffed Alex, still writhing in pain on the floor. Sherlock smiled down at her hand on her shoulder, his eyes soft. “Well done, Mrs. Holmes.” Molly looked up at him, pain warring with triumph on her face as John checked her over. Her wrist was broken and she was bleeding from her mid-section but was otherwise unscathed. Her voice was tight with pain but she managed a grin. “I got him good, didn’t I? I can’t believe the same trick worked twice.” she said, briefly looking up into their worried faces before fainting dead away.

******

Mycroft and Mrs. Carlton watched the drama play out on CCTV in Mycroft’s office. Mrs. Carlton stood behind him with her hand on his shoulder and shook her head and gasped as they watched Alan die and Molly shot. Mycroft sat tense and silent, flinching perceptively as Alex shot then kicked his wife and stepped on her wrist. Black anger, fiercer than anything he had ever felt, seized him and blended in equal combination with stark fear. When it was over and Molly was safe with Sherlock and John with Alex cuffed on the floor, Mycroft saw Molly slump and Sherlock quickly key his mobile. Mycroft was instantly on his feet, his eyes wild. His mobile buzzed in his hand.

“Don’t panic, she just fainted. She is hurt. John thinks a broken wrist and a graze from the bullet. The vest took most of the force but there is some bleeding. John thinks she may be in shock and an ambulance is on the way.  Greg and Anthea will handle Alex until transport arrives. She will live, Mycroft, I am sure of it. Meet us at Bart’s, the ambulance just arrived.” Mycroft heard the click as the call was disconnected. Sherlock glanced straight up into the camera and nodded.  It was over.

 


	38. Chapter 38

Chapter 38

Mycroft had never imagined the ride to Bart’s could be so long. All he could think about was Molly and the relief and anxiety warring for supremacy inside him blurred his thinking and made his hands shake.  As for that bastard Alex, Anthea would deal with him. He would be lucky to ever see the light of day again.

Sherlock was outside the hospital, smoking and waiting for his big brother. He flicked the fag away as Mycroft sprang from the car and approached. Sherlock fell into step with Mycroft and spoke quickly as they made for the hospital entrance. “She will be fine, Mycroft. John is with her. Her wrist was broken but it’s been pinned and set and will be just fine in a month or so. She is badly bruised from the bullet but the damage is superficial and will fade. The blood came from a blood pack in the vest I added in at the last minute. We had to make certain he thought she was badly hurt should he attack her. I guess I should have told you about that part of the plan. Sorry.”

Mycroft shot him a withering glance but did not slow as they entered the lift. “Sorry? You scare me half to death and you are sorry?”

Sherlock grinned back at him though the grin never reached his eyes. “All’s well that ends well, brother mine. The risk was great but the reward was greater.  I hadn’t realized what a hell cat Molly Hooper could be under fire. You had better watch yourself in future lest you incur her wrath.”

Mycroft reached out and pushed the stop button on the lift controls. He needed to make something perfectly clear. “Not funny, Sherlock, and Molly will never be placed in such a situation again. Do you understand me, little brother?” Mycroft looked steadily at Sherlock, his eyes narrowed and face set.

Sherlock dropped the mask of humor and snapped at his brother. “I understand more than you think and if you thought it hard to sit and watch it play out on CCTV, it was even harder to wait in that damned closet doing nothing and watching while that sodding prick hurt her. I love her too, you know. My only regret is that I allowed Anthea to shoot him instead of taking him apart with my bare hands.”

Mycroft looked carefully at Sherlock, gauging his sincerity. He was well aware of how Sherlock felt about Molly and he had to be sure where things stood. The two brothers stared at each other for a long moment and a silent understanding passed between them. They were at a crossroad in their relationship and a choice had to be made. Mycroft had made his choice and waited for Sherlock to follow suit.

Sherlock faced his brother, uncharacteristically humble, and put a hand on his shoulder. “I will protect Molly and Avery with my life if necessary. I only ask that I be allowed to be a part of your lives. I may be Avery’s biological father but Molly loves you, not me. I have accepted that fact and though it is painful for me to admit, I am pleased for you. You are a far better husband to Molly and father to Avery than I could ever be.”

The tension drained from Mycroft’s face and his hand came up to grasp Sherlock’s shoulder, the two linked together facing each other. “I am going to hold you to it, Sherlock. Molly and I love you too though you are an undeserving, selfish ass. We expect to see you at the residence weekly if not more. Avery needs a kind uncle to listen to her woes and to take her on adventures, within reason of course.” Mycroft smiled gently at Sherlock. “It’s time to be a family again.”

Sherlock looked into Mycroft’s eyes and nodded. They broke their connection and Mycroft pushed the button to re-start the lift. Only minutes had passed since Mycroft had arrived at the hospital but half a lifetime of hurt and alienation had been put to rest. The two brothers had made peace with each other.

 

******

Molly woke in a hospital bed looking up into the worried face of John Watson. The room was dark except for the quiet glow of the light above the head of the bed. “Hey John” she said, her voice low. “Seems as if I got banged up a bit and decided to pass out.  What happened? Where is everybody?”

“Hey, Molls, good to see you.” John smiled at her and lifted her uninjured wrist to check her pulse. “That was quite the show you put on back at Baker Street.  Scared all of us half to death, you did. Greg went home after he and Anthea got Alex into the police van. He said he would see you soon. Sherlock is down in front waiting for Mycroft. They should be here any minute. That bastard Alex is locked up and definitely on Anthea’s bad boy list. Thanks to you, we have everything we need to put him away for a very long time. She will make sure he gets trussed up nice and tight in some highly unpleasant place. There’s a team at Baker Street evaluating the scene and Anthea’s cleaners should be there in a few hours. You were amazing and though you have a broken wrist and some bruised ribs, you should be right as rain in a few weeks. We’re at Bart’s by the way, thought you might like to know.”

Molly’s face was sad. “I am so sorry I couldn’t tell you about Sherlock, John. Jim made him jump you know. He told Sherlock he would kill every last of one his friends if he didn’t, starting with you.  I just helped Sherlock by providing a dead body and falsifying the paperwork. Mycroft took it from there and after a few weeks recovering in my flat, Sherlock left for the continent. It was awful for me John; the lies and the guilt.  I didn’t mean to abandon all of you but I just couldn’t take it so I disappeared. Please forgive me.” She looked up at him her eyes pained.

John’s eyes welled up but he kept his control. “Oh Molly, of course you are forgiven. I don’t blame you as you were just doing what you thought was best. I am furious with Sherlock for not telling me but we will work through things and I am sure all will be well.  Or, as well as to be expected being best mates with the daft prick. I’m not quite ready to move back into Baker Street yet though. I am not going to punish him but he has to know just how hard this has been on all of us.” John squeezed her hand and smiled. “Looks like our world has knit itself back together and though there has been some damage, this too shall pass. You OK?”

“Yes, John, I’m OK.” She squeezed his hand and smiled. “You are the best of men, John Watson.”

John smiled at her and she smiled back. They both looked up as the door opened and both Holmes brothers came in. John nodded at Sherlock, rose and joined him near the door. Mycroft stood stock still for a moment, eyes locked on Molly, before striding forward and gently gathering her up in his arms. Her breath hitched in her throat and she hid her head in the curve of his shoulder, pulling him close. John watched the couple embrace and he could feel their need for one another from across the room. Would he ever get used to seeing them together? They drew back, looked into each other’s eyes and their lips slowly met in a gentle kiss, Sherlock and John forgotten.

Sherlock took one long look at them, his eyes unreadable and jerked his head towards the door. John nodded and together they left the couple to their reunion.

 

******

Sherlock and John walked down the corridor towards the hospital entrance. John had agreed to walk for a while with Sherlock and maybe go to a pub to have a pint and talk.  Sherlock was silent and John knew he was struggling with something. Oh well, he would tell John when he was ready or just work it out for himself. It was grand to have him back and John couldn’t believe that his old friend had returned.  He kept stealing side glances at him just for the sheer joy of seeing his face again.  John’s heart was lighter than it had been in two years and though they had a lot to work through, he was certain that things would be back to normal soon.

John wondered how Sherlock felt about Mycroft and Molly getting married. He hadn’t said anything but the look on his face when he held the gun on Alex at Baker Street had said it all. He loved Molly Hooper, now his brother’s wife. He had cradled her head so tenderly after she fainted and was terse with the ambulance crew when they inadvertently jostled her injured wrist. When they took her away, Sherlock had looked momentarily lost before he forced his attention back to the crime scene. He was sad and John felt for his friend. Molly had moved on and left him behind.

They rounded the last corner before the exit and met Mrs. Carlton, Avery in her arms, on her way up to see Molly. The pair stopped to say hello to Avery, who leaned away from Mrs. Carlton to reach for Sherlock. Sherlock’s eyes lit up and John watched in fascination as his friend approached the child.

“Uppie?” she asked with a dazzling grin. Sherlock returned her smile and took the child into his arms, kissing her softly on the temple. His eyes soft, he looked at John. “Isn’t she lovely?

Avery stared up at Sherlock’s face. “Sherrr…lck… Sherrr…lck!” she said and then laughed at his surprise. Sherlock looked at John. “Smart as whip just like m….” He paused and a strange look passed over his face. “Mycroft.”

John looked at his friend and the child in his arms.  How could he have not seen it clearly before? He had suspected but now he knew. His eyes widened and he looked questioningly at Sherlock.  His friend gave him the most minute of nods and then handed Avery back to Mrs. Carlton with a smile. “You be a good girl and I will be by soon to see you, I promise.” Avery smiled at him, waved her little hand and then she and Mrs. Carlton were off down the hall.

“You want to talk about it?” John asked gently.

Sherlock’s face twisted into small pained smile. “No, some things are best left unsaid. I had a life, I died and I left it behind. People moved on without me. The decision has been made and now it’s time to get on with things. I am just happy that you are all still here and safe.” His grin widened. “Enough of this nonsense, let’s go find a pint. London is waiting and we have a lot to talk about, my friend.”

He clapped John on the shoulder and together the two friends walked off into the night.

******

It was after midnight. The streets were silver with rain and traffic was thin.  Sherlock stood looking up at a set of dark windows in a nondescript building in the heart of London. Tall and pale, he stood in the pool of light cast by a lone light post. His face, half in light half in shadow, was haggard and sad. A cab passed by, illuminating the street and his silent vigil. He looked down and seemed to sag as if under a great weight. Lifting his head and gathering himself, he took one last look at the residence, turned, and slowly walked away.  All that remained behind was the quiet patter of the rain as first light began to rise over London.


	39. Chapter 39

Chapter 39

_Afterward_

Avery stood silently looking down at the grave of her parents. Her mum had passed only a month ago and Avery’s grief, as well as the grief of the rest of the family, was still fresh. They had gathered for a small family memorial a few days ago and the internment had been today.

Her father had passed first, a massive heart attack taking him in his late seventies. It was quick and her mum had found him in his favorite chair in the library of the residence with a beloved book in his lap. Her mum had been devastated as had the rest of the family and they had buried him just five years ago. Her mum had taken comfort in her children, her garden and the support of Uncle Sherlock but a light had gone out in her and she pined for her husband until the day she died. A stroke took her too soon, just as one had taken Avery’s maternal grandmother. 

What a life they had with each other and what wonderful parents they had been. Her two brothers had already left the graveyard with their families and were on the way back to the Surrey house. They would stay another day or two and then return to their lives. Each of them had inherited a property at their mother’s death; Steven had received the residence and Mark the high-rise condo. Avery received her favorite of all the properties, the old house in Surrey that held some of her best childhood memories.

She looked across the hills to the pale gold house in the distance. She could see in her mind’s eye her parents, still fairly young, arms around each other and talking quietly in the swing on the terrace. She had once discovered them kissing passionately in the ruined folly not far from the house and though she had crept away unseen and embarrassed, she had secretly thought it the most romantic thing she had ever seen. Together they had raised a family, written several books, consulted on cases with Uncle Sherlock and never stopped finding joy in each other. They had traveled the world and seen many wonders but always returned to their beloved England. They had loved each other so deeply and been so happy.

She remembered her Da’s face on the day each of her brothers was born, so proud and pleased. She thought of her mother’s love of soufflé and her stories about Emma Carlton, now 15 years gone. Avery had loved Emma and she was buried just north of her parent’s grave. They had many pets at the Surrey house starting with mum’s old cat Toby, who lived to the remarkable age of 21. He was buried out back in the peony bed along with a multitude of other small creatures that had graced their lives. She and her brothers had run wild in the countryside in the summers and then returned to London for school and then careers. Mark had gone into government service, Steven was a barrister and she was a concert violinist with the London Symphony; not first chair yet but all good things would come in time.

She heard soft steps behind her and looked up to see her Uncle Sherlock approaching. He had slowed down quite a bit in recent years but was still as lithe and tightly strung as he had been his whole life.  His once dark curls were gray but he was just as much a clothes horse as he was in his youth. His suit was impeccable and though she didn’t quite get the purple shirt, it looked great on him. His brother’s death had been hard on him but he had wept openly when her mum had gone.

John Watson was still alive as was Greg Lestrade but Mrs. Hudson had passed the year after Emma Carlton. The old friends still spent time together though both John and Greg had married; John a year after Sherlock’s return and Greg several years later. They and their wives had been at the memorial today but had both left for London to leave the family to grieve in private. She loved their children as well and they were like close cousins to the family. Anthea had been killed in the line of duty less than three years after Uncle Sherlock returned and her Da had kept a photo of her on his desk mixed in with photos of mum, Sherlock and she and her bothers.

Sherlock quietly took a place at her side and looked sadly down at the grave. He took her hand and they stood for a while in silence before he spoke. “Mycroft once said that all lives ended and all hearts were broken.  I understand that now that both he and Molly are gone.  However, your mum also taught him that caring was an advantage as evidenced by their long marriage and wonderful children. What a love they had and how I will miss them.”

Avery turned to her beloved uncle and wrapped him in her arms. He was so thin and vibrated with emotion. “I miss them too but we still have each other and the boys. They would have wanted the both of us to be happy, you know.” Avery paused and smiled at him. “Do you remember how mad they were at us when we set the sheep shed on fire? Oh my, the look on their faces when the fire brigade arrived was priceless. Mum and Emma Carlton were hilarious and invited them all in to tea after the fire was out.” Avery laughed joyfully at her memories, gently bumping her uncle with her hip.

“Come on, Uncle Sherlock, the boys are waiting for us at the house.” She took his hand to pull him along but he did not move.

“Avery, there’s something I need to tell you.  Your mum asked me to wait until after she and Mycroft were gone and it’s time.” He looked at her, anxiety in his eyes, and started to speak when she interrupted him.

“Oh Uncle Sherlock, you are such a drama queen, do you think mum trusted you to wait?  She told me years ago that you were my father though I never let on to Da that I knew. He knew that I knew, of course, but it didn’t change anything. Mum loved you, you know, and if you had not been forced to go away, you two may have eventually married. But you had to go and she fell in love with your brother who was the best father I could have ever asked for. And, you have been the best uncle ever and I love you.” She embraced him and they held each other for a long moment, Sherlock blinking back tears as he held his girl.

She leaned back to look at him, smiled and he smiled back at her, their dimples and beautiful blue eyes mirroring each other. She tugged his hand playfully, just as she had as a child. “Come on, old man, it’s time to go back to the house. I brought my violin and yours is in the library; let’s play a duet to honor the two of them.” Avery paused and looked back at the grave for a long moment. “They will never be truly gone as long as we are still alive to remember them.”

She took his hand and together they left the small graveyard, the spring breeze bending the new grass and the freesia blooming rampant, its sweet scent carried on the wind.

_"There are as many forms of love as there are moments in time."_

Jane Austen


End file.
